


Wicked Fem

by mathildia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bondage, Boot Worship, Burlesque, Butch/Femme, Collars, Contemporary Romance, Cuckqueaning, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/F, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Lapdance, Lingerie, Orgasm Control, POV First Person, Romance, Silicone Cock, butch sub, fem top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22571221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: Pix is a scruffy butch who’s had her heart broken. And she’s never really told anyone about her kinky side.Lois is a polished fem who knows she’s bi but she’s never been with a woman. Men are just easier, aren’t they?When Lois and Pix meet neither of them expect it to work. Both of them are just in it for a bit of experimentation. Something wild. Something they’ve never done before. Until they’re not.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 80
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I mean no one wears boots like that unless they want kinky little shits like me to start thinking the things I had been thinking._

It’s Saturday night. I have money, I’m single, it’s the weekend, and what am I doing? I’m going to the supermarket to buy a ready meal which I will heat up in the microwave before getting an early night.

I have less than twenty Saturday nights left before I turn 40 and this is how I am choosing to waste yet another of them.

But, perhaps, I’m being smart. Before you judge, have you considered I might meet the girl of my dreams in the supermarket? And if I do, I’d better hope she makes the first move because I am useless in that direction. Also my gaydar is bust so even if I knew how to hit on people, I have no idea where to aim. 

That’s why I have the kind of haircut - very short, fade, etc - that gets most people at least halfway there and if that and the jacket aren’t enough, often I also wear a rainbow wristband, because I figure I ought to help out any dykes who are as clueless as me.

So I’m cruising the aisles, yeah, except not cruising, because I have no idea how to do that, when I realise I’ve been kind of following this woman around. I didn’t mean to. Or, at least, I didn’t _consciously_ mean to. 

God, she’s hot though. And even after I’ve realised I’m following her, I don’t actually stop doing it. I try and look at her in a non creepy way as I select yoghurts, taking far more time over the choice between peach and passionfruit and fruits of the forest than I ever have before.

She’s so beautiful. She’s also, not really dressed for the supermarket. She has dark hair, long, but swept up in a sort of fancy, shiny roll thing on the back of her head. She’s wearing a lot of eye make up and red lipstick - I really like red lipstick - and a green dress, clingy and with a kind of sheen to it that really emphasises the shape. She has the cutest figure, like all the things you want, in the exact amounts you want them.

She’s conventionally attractive hot, but also edgy hot. Like she’d be filthy in bed. No wonder I’m staring at yoghurts.

Also, okay, she is wearing black shiny knee boots with heels. And I love boots. Like, I love boots a lot. And I love those boots. I want to kneel in front of her and kiss them. Because, I’m like that. And when I look at her - secretly, while pretending to look at yoghurt - I feel more _like that_ than I think I ever have.

I’m still sort of having this perverted day dream about her resting those boots on my back, when I see this young guy walking up behind. He’s pretty good looking. 

At first I think, I’m gonna wait until he walks by and see if she looks at him, because, as I may have mentioned, my gaydar is bust, so maybe I can get a hint from whether hot girl looks at hot guy.

But as he gets nearer, I realise from the way he’s walking towards her, not past her, he knows her. And I think, shit, he’s her boyfriend. It makes sense. They’re both hot and, like her, he’s dressed a bit too well for a supermarket trip. With a leather jacket over his jeans but, wait, what I thought was a black t shirt is a black _latex_ t shirt. 

So he’s maybe gay? I don’t know if I’m being wildly offensive, but straight men don’t wear latex shirts, do they?

Or maybe they’re swingers. Swingers probably wear anything. They’re off to a swinging party out in the suburbs. What if they invite me for a threesome? Could I do that? I had a boyfriend in my first year of university. I sucked a dick, like, once. I could do it again. It’s not like they’ve changed how dicks work. 

I could suck a dick if it meant afterwards I got to kiss those boots. 

And I’m deep, deep in this thrilling thought. Too deep, because the guy looks at me and says, “So which one of us are you into?”

The girl nudges him and says, “Cal,” like she’s annoyed and that’s already nice because I kind of feel like she’s on my side. Protecting me.

She can protect me. So long as no one protects me from her.

“Sorry, what?”

He grins. “I mean we’re both bi so you might as well go for it.”

And he’s being obnoxious. And she’s embarrassed, but on one level, this is the kind of clear declaration of sexuality I could do with in all conversations with strangers. 

But already my hopeless dreams are being slightly dashed by the girl saying, “Oh shut up about that.”

But he goes, “Well you are, aren’t you. You keep saying you are.”

“Yes,” she says, turning the sort of angry eyes on him that I’d been slightly day dreaming about her turning on me. She has amazing eyes. Sort of blue and grey and sparkly in a sea of black eyeliner, “but you don’t need to announce it to random lesbians in the supermarket.”

He looks at me. “I’m so sorry she called you random,” he says. “Look, obviously it’s her you like. I mean, your hair.”

I nod. The hair is, after all, on purpose. 

“But,” the guy continues, “she only dates subs so unless you’re that way inclined, you’re out of luck.”

I let myself smile at that. Because my gaydar might be bust. And I really did have no idea this chick was bi, but I did spot exactly what those boots meant. I mean no one wears boots like that unless they want kinky little shits like me to start thinking the things I had been thinking. “Right,” I say, because I haven’t said much and I ought to say something.

The guy grins at me, “So, you were staring at her.”

And then, out of fucking nowhere, _this_ , kicks in, “Sorry, no. It’s not like that. I just thought. Sorry, I thought I knew you from somewhere.”

_What? Fucking stop._

“You thought you knew me?” she says. The first words she’s said to me and her voice is really incredible. Just that little bit husky. Not too much. Just enough to make me fall for her even more than I already had.

But I battle on with my own stupidity, “Yeah. I thought we were at school together.”

She looks a bit shocked at this. Unsurprising, as she is clearly about ten years younger than me. “Which school?”

“St Cuthberts Girls Grammar,” I say. Which is the real name of my school. I’m too overwhelmed to invent a school.

“Where?” she says.

“Stevenage.”

“I’ve never been to Stevenage,” she says. She looks a bit bemused. Maybe even disappointed. She turns to the guy, “Look, we’re going to be late for Alexis’s party.”

Of course they’re going to a party. Thats why they’re in the supermarket. It’s only then I notice her basket contains two bottles of Prosecco and a six pack of beer.

He gives her a look, but he’s clearly a good enough friend to spot that she wants to stop talking to this weirdo and nods at me, “Well nice to meet you,” he says. And it’s over. None of us even exchanged first names.

As they walk away he says to her, “You said you wanted to do something about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Even though I’m lucky enough to live a lifestyle that means I am not plagued with dick pics, I still get why people don’t want to see dick pics unannounced, however, having said that, I lean in sort of curious._

I’m in The Queen’s Head with JJ, Sal and Tanya. The Queen’s Head is queer pub that has somehow held off being turned into a tourist trap or a block of flats. And there always seems to be a dog wandering around somewhere. So, it’s a nice place.

We sit in the small bar, hunched round a table, because there’s some kind of open mic thing happening in the big bar and I’m sure everyone involved is very talented but I am nearly 40 and loud talent is still loud. 

My friends JJ and Sal are legit the favourite couple of everyone who’s ever met them. They both have the same dark quiffs and wear the similar plaid shirts and jeans. They’ve been together a decade, look basically identical most of the time and are just loved up and the cutest.

They’re planning to get pregnant next year. Which is just gorgeous and I’m so jealous of that kid who gets to have them as parents and I love to make jokes about how the kid won’t be able to tell them apart because lesbian merge is real. Although they do have some distinct differences, like the fact that when they have their kid Sal is going to be called mummy and JJ is going to be called JJ.

Also JJ seems to have a distinct knack of getting me to spill secrets, mainly because she is always the one pressing us to have another round. 

Tanya is quieter. She’s a software engineer like me. That’s how we met, at a meet up for women in tech. And I like her, but she’s quiet. She doesn’t know Sal and JJ that well and I hope she’d not feeling ignored.

Because, what with JJ, and her ability to make me tell her things, I am explaining the absolute, non-story of how I bumped into a very attractive woman in the supermarket, found out from a man in a latex shirt that she was both bi and a dom.

“Or at least,” I say, careful to get it absolutely right, “she only dates subs which is a weird thing to do if you are not a dom.”

JJ and Sal nod in agreement over their identical pints of lager. 

“And then,” I continue, “I totally blew it. I babbled something about us going to school together even though that is not physically possible.”

“But like,” says JJ, “was she into you?”

“I don’t even know,” I say, my voice sliding into a whine. 

“Well the thing is,” says Sal, “you know all these things about her because her friend blurted them out for some reason, but what does she know about you?”

“She knows I’m queer,” I say. “Because I was wearing my wristband.” I am very attached to the idea of wearing a wristband. 

“Yeah. She also, could see you,” says Sal. “But like, what I mean is, you really want to find someone like her. But maybe she really wants to find someone like you.”

“It doesn’t seem likely,” I say. 

Sal shrugs like she doesn’t agree and takes a drink. 

“What?” I say.

Sal just shrugs again. 

“Look, even if she did, I’m never going to see her ever again and I don’t even know her name.”

“Right then,” says JJ standing up, “great story. More drinks?”

“I’ll go,” says Tanya. “It’s my round.”

We give Tanya our orders and I ask for a half of the same lager I’ve been on all night and when Tanya’s gone I say. “When they left the guy said, ‘you said you wanted to do something about it’.”

“Ooooh,” says Sal.

“Ooooh what?”

“Dunno, but I wonder what he meant by that.”

“Look,” says JJ, “we’re never gonna know are we? And Pix, it’s been 10 months since you split up with Rachel. You need to get laid.”

Ah, so, I suppose this had to come up sooner or later. JJ called me Pix just then because, well, my name is Pix. Short for Pixie. And Pixie is my actually honest to god, on my birth certificate name. My mother was very glamorous and, I think, thought I would grow up to be glamorous too. And suit the name Pixie. But instead I’m just a messy little fat butch with a terrible thing for glamorous women. Which I prefer not to get all Freudian about, thanks. Moving on.

“I’ve been laid since Rachel,” I say. An important fact.

“Sure,” says JJ, “but you need to get laid again. That’s the thing about it. You have to keep doing it.”

“Doing what?” That’s Tanya, back in a clatter of fresh glasses of beer.

“Getting laid.”

“Oh right,” says Tanya sitting down. I don’t really know much about Tanya’s life outside of coding and the occasional drink where she doesn’t say much. Does Tanya get laid? Does she want to? Is it tactless that I keep talking about my lack of sex life in front of her?

“Let’s go out this weekend,” says JJ. “Let’s go out and get Pix laid.”

“Perhaps that would be a good idea,” I say, thinking I could maybe supplant this fixation with a new and more tangible one. Then realise, “Oh, but I can’t. I have a thing next weekend. It’s Carol’s 40th birthday party.” Everyone at the table groans.

Because, talking of fixations, how about I suddenly bring up my ur-fixation. The glamorous, the perfect, the definitely straight, Carol.

* * *

Carol is one of my oldest friends. We were at University together so we’ve clocked up over twenty years now. Which means Carol knew me before I was with Rachel.

In fact, Carol knew me when I was with my first and last boyfriend. Before I was a gay. Before I knew. It was a very different time. I had very different hair.

In fact, I sort of came out to Carol before I’d come out to anyone by declaring to her that I had a mind bending crush on her in front of that long suffering first and last boyfriend. 

Anyway we got over that and I don’t have a crush on her anymore which is a relief seeing as how she doesn’t do vulvas and I, it turns out, don’t do unrequited pining. 

Okay, I mean, having said that, I am not so over her that that if Carol turned around, say, at her birthday party and said, hey Pix, just out of interest, how many times do you think you could make me come in one night, and I said, I reckon about 10, but I’d need to check and she said, check how? and I said, check in bed, and she said okay, I wouldn’t _not_ go to bed, with her. But I _can_ go to her birthday party and not spend all of my time planning how fast I could stab her husband to death with a bread knife. fifteen minutes tops. And that includes cleaning up, because I’d do it in the bath.

It’s a typical house party. There are kisses hello and some fizzy wine drinking and pretty nice canapés, because Carol’s husband has some kind of finance job and they are pretty rich. They live, near me, in a house near the station, because he commutes and it’s, like the whole house. In this part of town, having a whole house and not a flat is a weird status symbol to me. Like, I do alright, but I live in a basement flat. They have three floors, with one of those kitchens that is downstairs and a patio garden with a gazebo in it. There’s music, which is mostly old school house, because we are all, _I remember when raves were a thing_ years old. People are doing coke off the coffee table and I am offered unexplained pills more than once.

It’s after eleven when I find myself in the kitchen with Marco. It’s just us and he looks me up and down as says, “Whats this queer corner?”

I say, “Maybe, but it could use more fondant fancies.”

I don’t know why I say that exactly, because I hate fondant fancies, but they seemed like an amusingly gay cake and I want to stay witty in case Carol overhears me and decides I’m so funny she’s going to give up being straight.

So, Marco is one of those gay guys who seem to literally hook up with different men several times a week. I don’t know him super well but we follow each other on every social media platform and most of his updates are about how he banged a guy he met in the gym or starbucks or on a bus or something.

It’s always intrigued me. I’m jealous, on some level, that his sexual culture has so much exciting hook up potential and mine is, well, not that, but also, I just wonder how exactly it works. 

I’m drunk enough to ask him about it, “You know all your stuff you put online about hooking up with guys?”

“Yeah,” says Marco, like he’s had this conversation before. I am not the first to ask about this. 

“I mean, is it all real. Does that all really happen?”

“Are you saying, did I lie about fucking the barman from Trash? Because everyone says I didn’t and I totally did.”

Trash is a newish gay bar. I’m grateful I know this, so I don’t have to ask. Having said that, I’ve never actually _been_ there. I should go to places like that more. I probably would have more of the Marco-style banging-random-strangers free for all lifestyle if I did. I don’t think saying, I saw a really hot woman in the supermarket and we completely failed to bang is cool story for Instagram. 

I say, “I don’t mean are you lying, more, how do you have the time?”

“It’s not that time consuming. You’re probably just over-estimating how long it takes to bang some random dude because you’re used to lesbian sex.”

“Which takes a minimum of 4 hours.”

“Exactly. If dudes took four hours a go I would have to cut down considerably.”

I nod. I think Marco is being smug, like, the fact it takes 4 hours is a bad thing, like it’s 3 hours and 55 minutes of joyless grinding and then you come, rather than a delightful afternoon of multiple orgasms, cups of tea and breaks to pet the cat. At least it was with Rachel. Before it wasn’t. I don’t want to think about that. “So it’s all true?”

“I thought you said you didn’t doubt if it was true, but yes, it is all true.” He laughs. “I can prove it if you want.”

I frown at him, unsure what he means and then I realise he’s getting out his phone. He swipes the screen and turns it around to show me. 

Obviously, I assume, from the nature of our conversation and the culture we live in that he’s gonna show me a dick pic and even though I’m lucky enough to live a lifestyle that means I am not plagued with dick pics, I still get why people don’t want to see dick pics unannounced, however, having said that, I lean in sort of curious. 

And he doesn’t show me a pic of a dick.

He shows me a pic of a smiling man who, from the angle and the small amount of background detail is, possibly, kneeling on the floor of a toilet stall. But that’s not the point, the point is, he’s the guy, the exact guy, who was with that hot girl in the supermarket and Marco says, “See, that’s Caleb.”

I want to ask him more about the guy, like, I dunno, the exact hours he works at Trash and whether Marco happened to meet any of his friends, but Carol wanders over with a sloppy glass of white wine in her hand and says, “Oh there you are, darling,” to one of us, anyone’s guess which one, and then she grabs one of my hand and one of Marco’s and leads us off into the living room for cake and singing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“A dungeon,” I say weirdly loud. “An actual dungeon.”_
> 
> _“No. Not an actual one. I mean, It’s not part of a castle or anything.”_

The following Thursday night, which is the soonest we could all make it, me and Sal and JJ are at Trash. It’s a student night, because students are the people who have the schedules and energy to stay out this late drinking on a Thursday and they’re playing 90s Indie music. Which, actually is fine. And Caleb is behind the bar, which is also fine. What’s not fine is there is no sign of the girl he was with and I am not exactly sure if he recognised me when I bought the first round or how to bring this whole subject up. Especially as the bar seems very understaffed and Caleb doesn’t exactly seem to have copious time to chat.

Sal and JJ are consoling. Sal suggests I write a note for Caleb with my phone number and I wonder for a while if this is desperate. But it get’s late quick. We have a couple more rounds, all bought by me, because I might catch Caleb’s eye. I do manage it the third time I’m up there. We don’t really speak beyond the gesturing for three pints of lager but he does do a sort of double take.

After those drinks though, it’s nearly midnight and we all have work in the morning so I decide I should maybe try, instead, to slide into Marco’s DMs and see if he has any contact info for Caleb, something I failed to ask him at Carol’s because after the cake I couldn’t find him and then it turned out he had, in typical fashion, pulled Carol’s cousin and taken him home. Actually I don’t know where they’d gone exactly, away from the party was all I could find out.

I’m not sure what I’ll do if I get that contact info. The idea of sending a message that says something like, hey, remember me from The supermarket. Actually, I lied, I _was_ staring at your hot friend. Could you tell her?

But, yeah, that s the current plan.

Sal and JJ peel off to their bus stop, while I walk, alone to mine. 

I’m feeling crushed. Even though I knew this was a weird sort of long shot, the coincidence of meeting Marco and seeing the picture of Caleb has sort of made me feel like this was somehow going to work out, like I was magically in tune with the universe and this was meant to be. 

I walk sadly towards the bus stop. I’d worn my nicest jeans and everything. I’d washed my hair and taken a lot of care over the cute little quiff I wear on special occasions. For, it turned out, the benefit of precisely no one. I sit down dejectedly on the bench and look up at the electronic display. My bus is due in 8 minutes. 

I get out my phone to fiddle with while I’m waiting. And then I see her. 

_Her._

It really is her.

The woman.

The woman from The supermarket. And fuck, she’s still astonishingly beautiful. She’s wearing a black coat and her black hair is up in a sort of soft tumbling beehive. Her lips are red and her eyes are dark. She walks right up to me and sits down at the bus stop and says, “Caleb said you were at Trash?”

“I was at Trash?” It comes out like a question, but that seems like nothing, because I am amazed I can talk.

“Yeah,” she says. “He texted me to tell me but I was at work. I came as soon as I’d finished but you’d already left. I’m Lois.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes. We met in the supermarket last week. With Caleb. He works behind the bar at Trash. Sorry is this weird? I was just hoping we’d run into each other.”

“I was at Trash looking for you,” I get out somehow.

“At Trash? I never go to Trash.”

“I found out that your friend Caleb works there. So I went looking for you. Is his name really Caleb. That’s such a strange name.”

“Is it? I guess it is a bit. You’d think if you chose your own name you’d pick something better, like, Horatio or Orinoco. I would.”

“Hercules.”

“Hercules? Really?”

“That’s what I’d pick.” Okay, seriously, what the hell am I saying? Why am I telling the legit most beautiful woman I have ever seen that I would call myself Hercules if I was choosing a new name?

“What is your name?” says the legit most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

“Pix.”

“Pix? Short for Pixels?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. It’s short for Pixie. I know it’s weird.”

“I like it. Pix. It’s cute. She sighs and leans back against the back of the bench and stretches her legs out in front of her. She’s wearing glossy sheer tights and shiny black heels. I try really hard not to stare at them and it is very very difficult. She’s like a sexy cartoon. “Sorry,” she says with a kind of sleepy sigh, “it’s been a long day.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a few things. Sometimes I’m a dancer. Kind of.”

_Fuck’s sake. Of course she is._ “What sort of dancer?”

“I do burlesque.”

“Wow. I love burlesque.” _I mean, obviously._ “Were you doing that tonight?”

“No. I also work as a professional dom. You know, like, a dominatrix.”

“Oh.” _Oh._ “So you have two really cool careers.”

She laughs. I don’t think I really managing to be funny. I’m barely managing to speak. But, she laughs. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Nope. I have one uncool career. I’m a software engineer.”

“That’s quite cool. And, to be fair, far more of an actual career than either of mine.”

“Maybe they’re not that different. Both self employed, working from home.”

“I don’t actually do it from home. I work in a dungeon.”

“A dungeon,” I say weirdly loud. “An actual dungeon.”

“No. Not an actual one. I mean, It’s not part of a castle or anything.” 

My bus comes then. The one I’ve been waiting 8 minutes for. And I don’t get on it. I just sit there and pretend that’s not my bus. No one except me knows which bus I’m waiting for. So I just stay where I am on the bench. I can get the next one. “Is that where you were then. Tonight. In the dungeon?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. I had this weird guy, a client, and he wanted to jerk off.”

“Is that, not allowed?” I say stepping awkwardly through the words because I kind of assumed that being a dominatrix would involve quite a lot of men wanking. 

“Not with me. I don’t let them do that. They can go home and do it afterwards.”

And that’s, okay, that’s weirdly hot. “So you’re very mean then?” I say, not sure how it sounds. It might sound sort of _hopeful._

“It’s what they pay me for.”

“So what is the most popular thing?”

“Tie and tease is pretty popular.”

“I assume that’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“More or less.”

“I can see why it would be popular.”

“Can you?”

_Shit._ “Er, sure.”

“You’ve thought about that?” she says, leaning closer.

_Shit Shit Shit. Wait!_ “A beautiful woman in heels and lingerie tying me up and telling me what to do. Calling me a bad girl. Not letting me…ha ha.” My laugh is so fake and nervous, _oh my god. What is my mouth? I’m never drinking lager in Trash again._ “But, I mean who hasn’t?”

“Look,” Lois says, “I think we’ve kind of lost the thread of this conversation where I told you I came here on purpose to try and find you.”

“Yeah. Maybe. That does seem important.”

“And you went to Trash to try and find me.”

“Yeah.”

“And, look, I usually date guys, and please don’t let that put you off me, but guys traditionally do this part so maybe I’m fucking this up big time but, come home with me.”

_Shit._ “To the dungeon?”

“We’ve established I don’t live in the dungeon.”

“Where do you live then?”

“In a normal flat.”

“And you want me to come back there with you?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“Pix? Seriously?”

“Sorry.”

As I say that sorry, another bus swings around the corner and Lois stands up. “Thats my bus. Are you coming?”

I nod my head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I walk into the room and I sit down on the bed and as I do, she stands up and moves so she is standing in front of me. I look up at her and wonder if I look as desperate for her as I feel._

So we don’t exactly chat on the bus, which is good because, it turns out I am really bad at speaking sense right now. We end up in her flat, which is, as she said, a very normal flat. The first floor of a regency house with a balcony in the living room and those high ceilings that are a thing in those kinds of houses. As we stand in the hallway, she points to one of the doors. “That’s my flatmate’s room. She’s probably asleep, but I can’t be sure. She works weird hours.” 

“What does she do?”

“She’s an artist.”

“Like a painter.

“A performance artist. She’s very good.” As we’ve been talking, Lois has been unbuttoning her coat. It’s a short black trench thing with a belt. It’s pretty sexy especially along with the stockings and heels, but when she hangs it up and turns back around she’s wearing a strapless leather dress. And I get, I do, that this is probably what she’d been wearing for work. But it is so hot and she looks so sexy and I am so, so weak.

“My room’s this way,” she says, either not noticing or not mentioning the way my eyeballs pinged out of my head and I had to pick them up from the floor. 

We walk softly past the bedroom of the sleeping performance artist and Lois takes me into her bedroom. It is not a weird nest of black leather and chrome fixtures. It’s romantic. The bed is a white four poster, like something from a dream or an 80s music video. There are fairy lights on it and gauzy curtains. There’s a big dressing table with a plush pink stool in front of it and a white fluffy rug on the the floor. There’s a big bay window with a balcony.

“Nice room,” I say. Because it is. It’s very nice.

“Thanks.” She sits down on the bed and leans down to massage the back of one her ankles. It’s a hot gesture somehow and it must have go to my head because I say, “Don’t take them off.”

She looks at me and she has this gorgeous smile on her face, painted-red spreading and lighting up her eyes. It’s a smile that makes me think she’s planning my death by torture. I hope she is. “Don’t take what off?”

“You know.” I’m still in the doorway. I’m almost scared to get closer. 

“Come on, PIx. You’re going to have to do a bit better than that. She rubs her hand up the back of her calf. 

“Please,” I say with a swallow that’s almost painful. “Can you keep those shoes on.”

“Okay. That’s a good start. Do you want to come over here?”

“I mean, I do, but I also sort of don’t. Like, what will you do to me?”

“Nothing you don’t want.” She sits up, then leans back on the bed, arms behind her.

I’m sure I’m blushing. “Some things I don’t want might sort of be okay.”

“Alright. Well how about we do this. I’ll tell you what to do and you do it. Would you like that?”

“Sounds easy.”

“That depends what I tell you to do.”

“Are you gonna tell me to solve a quadratic equation?”

“No. I mean, unless you’re really into that.”

“I don’t think so. Although, I could actually probably do that.”

“Why don’t you come and sit down here. On the bed. I have an idea that might help.”

I do it. I walk into the room and I sit down on the bed and as I do, she stands up and moves so she is standing in front of me. I look up at her and wonder if I look as desperate for her as I feel.

I guess the answer is _probably_ because she smiles, reaches behind herself and _unfastens her dress_. The leather releases it’s hold on her, the elegant curves of the top part fall away from her tits and then the whole thing falls off her body and I am sitting there on the bed, looking at her in her underwear.

And underwear is a totally inadequate word for what she is wearing.

She’s wearing a black corset, with suspender tabs to her stockings, the thin glassy ones I was mesmerised by earlier. Above the corset she has a strapless lace bra that makes her tits look like they were drawn by someone who’d never heard of gravity. I’m dying. I’m fucking dead. I’ve never seen anything this beautiful this close up. I would do anything, absolutely anything to be allowed to bury my face in her cunt and find out what sound she made when she came.

Slowly, watching my face, she lifts her hands up and I notice those perfect red ovals of her fingernails. She does something behind her head and her hair falls out of the beehive do and falls around her face like a big dark cloud and the effect of this is to reanimate my already lifeless corpse and then instantly kill me dead again because she just got more beautiful and it really defies all the laws of the universe that something like that could have just happened.

She just keeps on standing there, in front of me. Weight on one hip and I can hardly stand to look at her. At any of her. 

“Holy shit,” I whisper to my hands.

“How does this make you feel?” she says, a touch smugly. But I can’t begrudge it. 

It makes me feel like I can’t deny her anything. Especially not an honest answer. So I say, “Like I’d do anything you said just to keep looking at you.”

“Good, that’s the idea.” She bends forward a little, which give me an astonishing view of her tits and says, in a quieter voice, as if this is a secret, “That’s what I hoped would happen.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” I say on a breath, like I have no other words. “Sorry, but, fuck.”

“What?”

I don’t know what to say so I say, “I just noticed those seams up the back of your stocking.”

“Er, yes,” she says, twisting her leg slightly so I can see them better, thick and dark. “Do you have a thing for that?”

_Do I have a thing? Do I have a fucking thing for the lines drawn up your legs like a route map to your cunt. I don’t know, Lois? Do I? Fucking do I?_ “Who wouldn’t?”

“Well it is certainly popular with you. You like fems, huh? Do all your girlfriends wear this kind of stuff?”

“Not really. I only have one ex-girlfriend. Rachel. And she was fem, but not, like this. She was a big pants girl she didn’t wear all this fancy stuff. Carol does,” I add, sort of randomly.”

“Who’s Carol?”

“An old university friend.”

“A friend who wears the lingerie you like?”

“Well yeah but that makes it sound like thats why we’re friends. Its a coincidence she dresses like that.”

“I’m surprised that if you like it so much you haven’t dated someone who wears it before.” She lets that before hang there, like it could mean just ‘in the past’ or it could mean before dating her, like, we’re gonna date.

“Sure, but it’s problematic isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Expecting women to dress up in this stuff that uncomfortable and expensive and time consuming just for the male gaze and also my gaze.”

“You know Pix, you are right. This stuff is uncomfortable and expensive and time consuming, but when you look at me like that I’m pretty sure its worth it. I like feeling powerful and right now I feel like I have so much power over you, I could just…” Causally and evilly, Lois adjusts her suspender strap as if it’s an absent minded gesture. 

“Jesus.”

She straightens up, smiling. “Oh Lois. You really are hopeless.” She reaches out and strokes me under the chin. 

I look up at her. “I really want to kiss those.”

“My suspenders?”

“Yes and the tops of you stockings.” _And your tits and I want to press my tongue into your arsehole and eat you out for days. Scratch me with those fingernails. Slap me and tell me I don’t get to do any of these things. That I don’t even deserve to touch something as perfect and beautiful as you. Oh fuck. Fuck._

“Do you want to know what you have to do to keep looking at me?”

“I guess,” I say. I press my legs together. My cunt feels so hot and wet in my jeans, like it’s expanding, like maybe I need to hold it together, but that press, that pressure, just makes everything feel bigger and more intense.

“I want you to stand up and take your clothes off.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. You can do that. Or you can go home. Your choice.”

“But you’re so beautiful,” I whisper, knowing this doesn’t really make a bit of sense.

“I know I am,” she says sweetly, as if what I just said was fine. “And you, are stalling. Her voice, next time she speaks has a new edge of steel. “Clothes off, Pix, now.” She steps away, making room for me to stand up in front of her.

And I have to do it. There is no way I can not do what she says when she talks to me like that. So I get up from the bed sort of shyly and she stands there, right in front of me with her hands on her corseted hips and stares at me while I pull off my jacket, then undo my jeans and shuck them down my legs and yank my t shirt over my head and then I look at her in my knickers and bra and socks. Wondering if she’s gonna clarify whether she actually meant, all my clothes. I’m already showing a great deal of skin in her dimly lit room.

It’s mortifying, but that mortification is so fucking hot. The awful, yet weird-good twist of humiliation that is knowing, absolutely knowing, for sure, that I will do it. I’ll take everything off if that’s what she wants and when she doesn’t say anything, just raises one neat, dark eyebrow at me as if she’s expecting someone more, I take off my bra and then my knickers and kick off my socks. 

When I’m done with that I just standing there, breathing kind of heavy, with my nipples all hard and tight and my bare skin tingling and zipping all over. 

“Okay, Pix,” says Lois. “Now,” she walks around me and sits down on the bed, beside where I was sitting before I stood up to undress. “Turn around to face me.” I do it, that seems easy enough. “And now kneel on the floor in front of me.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want to get closer to my shoes?” She turns one of her ankles so the patent leather catches the light. 

“Shit. you remembered about that.”

“I did. Would like to kiss them?”

“Your shoes?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. I used to love shoes. And you know, women are meant to love shoes, but I never got what it was with me because I loved them, but I didn’t want to wear them. When I was a kid I used to draw women in high heels for hours. I wasted hours and hours on that.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t wasted.”

“I dunno, I’m not even good at drawing.” 

“Perhaps you could consider all that time drawing high heels your training for what you are about to do.” 

“What’s that?”

Lois takes a small but pointed breath. “Kneel down and kiss my shoes, Pix.”

“Oh. Right.”

“And can I just say something else, Pix.”

“What?”

“As adorable as all this is, maybe it would work better if you just did what I said without analysing every single feeling you have about it.”

“I just kind of like doing that.”

“I know. But. A lot of people, who do what you’re about to do, they do it to switch off. To stop thinking for a bit. And I think that could be good for you, Pix. I think maybe, next time I tell you to do something, don’t think about it. Just do it.”

I nod. “Right. Yes. Okay.”

“And I think you can do better than that.”

“Yes… please?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Fuck. God, really?” _Jesus._

“Really.”

I look up at her. “Yes, Mistress. God, you’re beautiful.”

“Shoes, Pix.”

“Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress.” It feels weird to say that, but not exactly bad. 

I get on the floor in front of her. It’s good and I don’t think. I don’t need to think. Being on my knees makes me feel a rush of delicious shame and it’s made even better when I hear Lois make a little noise, a soft sort of gasp of arousal. I look up at her and bite my bottom lip and it’s so gratifying to see her catch a shallow breath at the sight of me. It’s the first time I really see it, that she wants this just as much as I do, just the way I do. For all that she’s a stunning beautiful woman, dressed up like one of my favourite fantasies, she’s undone by me, by me getting on my knees. 

It’s beautiful. And I lean forward and carefully, delicately, like I can’t believe I’m allowed I kiss the toe of one of her shoes. My pussy thumps as I do it and a humiliating moan slips out of my mouth as I move my mouth to kiss the other shoe. Lois leans down and takes hold of a handful of my short hair. She holds it tight, fingers curling in it. It hurts and I gasp in pain and in response to that Lois moans now, aroused by the ways she is hurting me.

I have to pull against her grip to manage the second kiss and it’s dizzyingly hot to have to hurt myself to do something already so degrading.

As soon as I do it, Lois growls, really growls and pulls me up from the floor, away from her feet until I’m kneeling up and she’s bending down and she catches her mouth with mine and she kisses me so hard and so well, I don’t know where I am, and somehow I end up on my back on the floor and she’s stretched over me. Lois takes my hands, one wrist in each of hers and pins them to the floor above my head, her knees are straddling my waist sort of holding it there and so I’m stretched out for her, naked on her fluffy rug, my tits crushed up against hers where they are spilling out of her lacy bra. 

I buck my hips, desperate and horny, trying to get something, anything, I don’t know what. I’m so helpless underneath her. I buck up again.

“Please,” I whisper into Lois’s hair.

“Please, what?” she purrs, sounding as fucked out as I am.

“Please, Mistress,” I fumble out between the whimpering noises I am making constantly for some reason. “Please touch me.”

“Touch you?” she lets go of my wrists and scrambles up into a sitting position, straddling me as I writhe beneath her, keeping my hands obediently, right where she left them. “Where would you like me to touch you?” She grazes the back of one of her hands along my flank. 

I whimper again, but more loudly, more needily, and gasp, “Anywhere.”

“How about here?” she says, stroking her hand over one of my tits. I wail and she cups it, smiling at me, “you seem kind of desperate for something.”

“Lois,” I manage, bucking my hips up again into nothing but air, “I have never been so turned on in my life.”

Lois makes a noise like, “Huh,” then reaches both hands behind her back. It’s a familiar gesture and I know exactly what she’s doing, even before she says, “But I’ve hardly started, baby,” and her bra falls away, leaving her tits bare above the top of the corset.

Her tits are so perfect, like two generous scoops of ice cream. I stare at them. But I don’t touch her. I don’t move. I don’t think I’ve earned it.

Instead she does. She brings her hands around and cups her own tits, one in each hand, nipples spilling between her fingers. I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m looking up at her from the bottom of the sea. I feel my mouth start to move the shape and then sound of words, and I barely have any idea what I’m going to say until I hear it, and its, “Fuck, Mistress, please let me go down on you.”

Lois looks down at me with this glazed expression. “Honey, oh god, yes.”

We scramble up onto the bed, Lois onto her back, head on the pillow, dark eyes and dark hair spread around her like a beautiful cloud.

Despite how much I loved everything Lois did to me before I climb onto the bed and get between her legs, this is still a strange relief. Here, the world is no longer twisted off its axis. Here, I absolutely know exactly what I’m doing. 

I hadn’t really noticed the knickers Lois is wearing until now, when they are between me and where I need to be. But she has a pair of plain black satiny things on below the corset. They’re very nice. I feel bad that I neglected to notice them before when I was distracted by the corset and the suspenders. But nice as they are, I need them off now.

I tug the waistband and Lois seems to get it right away. I’ve taken off knickers before, she’s had her knickers taken off before. She lifts her hips and I get rid of them and then I’m there with the heat and the scent and the sight of my favourite thing in the world.

I stretch forward and touch her with my tongue. I lick her a couple of times, hands on her soft thighs and try and find the exact amount of pressure she likes. The Goldilocks spot of not too much, but not to soft. I find it quick because I know what I’m doing, and she tastes like the sea. She’s bucking up fast, almost too fast. She’s even more turned on than I thought. I hold her hips and try and dip down, off her clit to make it last, because, god, I do not want to leave yet. But we’re there, fast, we’re there and she’s screams and so loud Alexis probably thinks I’m murdering her. 

Which is how I like it to go, to be fair. 

When she can breathe, she pulls herself up on an elbow, and I gaze up at her, with a sticky face and a smug expression.

“Wow,” she says. “You’re good at that.”

“It sort of comes with the territory.”

“You mean being a lesbian.”

“Yeah. Well, I suppose not every lesbian is into it, but it is very popular. I just feel like it would be weird not to do it. They just fit so well together. Mouths and cunts, like they’re meant to be pressed against each other.”

Lois nods. “More than, say mouths and dicks.”

“I’m not expert in mouths and dicks. But I seem to remember them as not really fitting together that well at all.”

She gives an exhausted fucked-out sort of laugh. “But you are really so good at it.” Her grin gets bigger. “I bet you could do it with both hands tied behind your back.”

“Ugh. Don’t.”

“Don’t?”

“I mean do. Please do. Do anything you want. I’d do anything for you.”

“Me or the outfit?”

“Honestly the outfit helps.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Because I’m the mistress and you’re the sub and I want coffee so make me some.”_

I wake up in Lois’s arms. She’s naked now. Last night, after she’d got me off with her hand, she’d gotten out of bed and removed her make up, which is very fifties housewife of her. She’s also removed the corset and all the other underwear except the suspender belt which is still around her waist with the tabs floating down from it, not attached to anything. I know that’s for me. Because of course in my dream reality, Lois also wakes up dressed like a tyrant goddess who’s about to confuse me with arousal into doing whatever degrading thing takes her fancy. But she also needs to be able to sleep. 

That thought, or parts of it, make me squirm against her. She’s taller than me, but thinner. Her body is tighter. She gets more exercise than I do. I run a hand over her side. Enjoying the way her hips swoop down into her little waist. I slide my hand onto the mound of her belly, then up and cup one of her tits. Fuck she’s beautiful. I burrow my face in the back of her neck. Her hair smells like a pine forest. I nudge enough of it away to kiss the warm skin buried underneath. 

“Mmm,” she purrs as I kiss her again. “Want something?”

I go a bit weak because she’s using that voice she used last night, the one where I’m sort of desperate to do what ever she wants. But all she’s done is ask a question, so I say, “Yeah, you,” and almost but not quite as an after though, I add, “Mistress.”

“Cheeky little shit,” she says, laughing and moving at the same time, rolling in my arms and tipping me over onto my back and keeps going until she is right on top of me. Somehow she got my legs open as we went so she’s kneeling between then. She grabs each of my wrists in one of her hands and pins them above my head. I gasp, because suddenly being on my back with my wrists pinned goes right to my cunt and she responds by doing some kind of thing where she arches her back and just drags the mound of her pussy over mine, which feels fucking incredible and is an impressive move for someone who claims to be new to girl on girl sex positions and all I can really think is, “Fuck, I want you to fuck me.”

_And I didn’t think that, did I? I said it out loud._

She laughs. “You’re going to have to be patient.”

“What, why,” I say, both words coming out as sort of whines and I jerk my hips up, which is partly involuntary but mostly and attempt to make her grind on me again.

“Because,” she says, dropping a kiss on one cheekbone, “I think,” and then the other, “something like that ought to be special. Perhaps have a little ceremony.” She finishes with a kiss on my lips so light I moan as I try and chase after it, failing as she pulls away out of reach. I feel her own hips twitch against mine. I love how much she loves frustrating me. It’s so fucking hot.

“Ceremony, how?” I manage. 

“I think I should dress up for you, for a start.”

“Okay. I mean, that is a good start.”

“And I should tie you to the bed.”

Shit. “Okay.” Then, “sorry. That’s a pathetic response to something that sounds like one of the best nights of my life.”

“And I think you should ask me very, very nicely.”

“You mean, like, you’re gonna make me beg for it.”

“Oh, I am gonna make you beg for it.”

“Oh,” I say, just a tiny little sound. I have absolutely nothing else.

“But right now, you can make me some coffee.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why me?”

“Because I’m the mistress and you’re the sub and I want coffee so make me some.”

“But it’s your house. I don’t know where things are?”

“You’re an adult, you’ll figure it out. Now off you go.” And without another word, she rolls off me, rolls right over and sits herself up on her side of the bed, grabbing her phone from the bedside table.

“Right. Coffee then.”

* * *

I pull on my t shirt and my knickers and find my way to the kitchen. There’s an espresso maker on the stove top and I fill it with water and coffee and light the gas burner underneath it. After a few moments, it starts to hiss and shiver. 

“She always makes them make coffee,” says a voice behind me and I turn to see a woman standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing a silk robe.“Alexis,” she says, extending a long hand. She’s brunette, with short hair and a pale face and she’s very tall and she has distinctive tall person hands. She’s about fifty, which I didn’t expect. “So you’re Lois’s.”

“Yeah,” I say, although I wouldn’t actually go that far, not yet. But Alexis seems hard to disagree with. She’s so tall I low key wish she would sit down. Then she looks at me like she’s trying to figure something out. “Excuse me for asking. I never know if it’s better to ask or not ask, but are you a girl?”

“Yep,” I say. “She/her,” I add. Just to make the point.

“Oh good for Lois. You know she’s been trying to get herself into a lesbian situation for ages. Between you and me, I think she was starting to feel like it was a bit of stigma that she hadn’t.”

“Well,” I say, opening cupboards until I find one with mugs and select two big pastel pink ones, “she has now. She’s got her lez badge.”

“Ah, she will be pleased,” says Alexis. “Did she, _do it_?” She makes these big eyes when she says that, and I’m pretty sure she can only mean one thing.

“Did she eat me out, do you mean?”

Alexis nods.

“No. Not yet,” I say. Presumptuously as the coffee fizzes up through the spout of the espresso maker and I pour it into the cups. “Does she take milk?” I ask Alexis, who smiles and points at the front of the cream coloured fridge. Pinned to it is a note. 

It says: _Lois’s coffee: oat milk, no sugar._

“She always has them make her coffee,” Alexis says again.

Back in the bedroom, I sit on the end of the bed and sip my mug of coffee, staring at Lois, who got changed while I was gone and is on top of the bedclothes in a black v neck jumper and black knickers. Her hair is a mess and she has no make up on, but she looks as beautiful as she did last night, appearing out of the dark at the bus stop. 

I wonder, idly, if maybe, if I asked her, she’d make me kneel beside the bed on mornings like this.I’d like that, especially if she let me look at her. And I’d also like it if she told me I didn’t get to look at her. 

I can’t help it then. I’m imagining kneeling on the floor beside the bed with my head down, desperate to look at her but forbidden from doing so. My breathing gets heavier at the thought. I’d be so desperate. I’d want to look at her so much. I squirm a tiny squirm and Lois looks up.

“What are you thinking about?” she says.

“You, mistress,” I say. I don’t stumble over it this time. I say it easily. I even, maybe, quite like it.

“Oh, I think I want a bit more than that, Pix.” 

I swallow, slightly mortified, but say, “You making me kneel on the floor beside your bed. Just like this, just like we are now, but I’m not allowed on your bed. And,” my breath catches, “I’m not allowed to look at you.”

She smiles and it’s radiant. “You ought to be careful what you wish for.”

* * *

Obviously, I’m _shameless_ about how soon I want to meet Sal and JJ, just so I can brag. I had the most amazing night of my life so I have to tell someone. 

A whole gang of us have a standing weekly date at The Queen’s Head for a Sunday Roast. Not all of us go every week, but this time there’s about ten of us. All coupled up apart from me and Sal’s friend Kat. 

I never quite know how to react to Kat because they’re a performer, a drag queen, actually. Assigned female at birth people who do female drag were called a few different things a while ago, like faux queens and bio queens, which got mostly dropped for being vaguely weird in awkward ways. Now I think they are just called drag queens, which makes sense. Although Kat has told me before that sometimes people are baffled when they meet them offstage. Once apparently a gay guy came into the dressing room, all ready to stan, but they baulked because Kat is a woman. Which isn’t even really true because Kat is non-binary, but anyway. 

Kat is problem for me, not because of any of that but because I find Kat’s onstage schtick so blindingly sexy. Her drag queen persona is called Angel Delight and dresses like my wildest fem loving dreams, but the thing is that offstage Kat is just, well, normal. Offstage Kat dresses like they have today in board shorts and a snapback and looks basically like a teenage boy. And sometimes I feel like that gay guy, disappointed by offstage Kat. And I sort of wish Angel Delight would come out for lunch with us, except that would probably be awkward because I am very keen to spend the time cramming my face with Yorkshire puddings and the hottest woman in the world might put me off.

Also, since Thursday night, I ought to revise that, that second hottest woman in the world.

The only downside of this lunch thing is that sometimes Rachel comes and brings her new girlfriend, if that happens I usually leave, but there’s no sign of either of them this week.

Anyway, I must be giving off some kind of smug vibe because JJ clocks it really fast. “I thought you missed her,” she says.

“She was at the bus stop.”

“Oh my god, Sal,” JJ nudges Sal next to her. “The girl Pix was chasing was at the bus stop.”

“Fuck off,” says Sal, leaning forward to speak to me, “Was she?”

Half the table have overheard at this point and are asking me who was at the bus stop and what and what happened and in the end everyone knows about Lois. And I am pretty smug about the whole situation.

We’re on puddings, I’ve ordered apple pie, when Kat swaps seats to sit next to me and says, “Does Lois so burlesque?” 

And, of course, Kat knows her. This fucking town. “Yeah,” I say.

“I think I know her. At least I saw her in a show a couple of months ago. Lost Horizon, it was called.”

“I don’t really know. We sort of only just met.” But I think a mixture of thoughts, like, one, why don’t I go to more burlesque shows as what they mainly feature are women who look and dress like Lois, and, also, sometimes, Lois herself.

“If it’s who I think it is, I spoke to her in the bar. Only briefly. She was with some man though.”

“She might have been,” I say. “I think she mainly dates men.” And I could have said, she only dates men. She’s never slept with a woman before and I was the first, like it’s a boast. But I don’t. I keep quiet about it. Because I sort of feel that isn’t the sort of thing Lois wants everyone to know. Let alone all my queer friends. 

JJ turns around and says, “When are you next seeing her then?”

And at that, I grin to myself, head down and say, “We’re having dinner next Friday.”

JJ makes an impressed face that is a little sarcastic. Kat’s gone, moved off somewhere to talk to someone. Sal’s moved too. She’s not sitting on the other side of JJ anymore. It’s just the two of us. JJ lowers her voice and says, “Is she like you hoped?”

I raise an eyebrow cockily. “Dominant, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” I say, smug as fuck.

JJ squeezes my leg. “I’m so happy for you. And also very fucking jealous.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Course. There are many stages to becoming a lesbian, Lois. I am past the one where you buy yourself a tuxedo.”_

On Friday night I arrive at Lois’s for dinner. When she said come to mine for dinner, I assumed she’d be cooking for me. But when she answers to door of her flat she’s not really dressed for cooking. She’s wearing an evening dress. It’s dark red, low cut with her incredible tits half spilling out and there is a split up the side that’s so high I can tell she’s wearing stockings. I can’t think for a second. When I can, I say, “Are we going somewhere special. Should I have worn a tuxedo?”

“If I’d known that a tuxedo was an option I would have insisted.” She steps aside to let me into her narrow hallway. “But I thought we’d just get a take away,” she says as I pass her. “I’m dressed up because I said I would.”

I’m heading for the living room, but then I realise something and my heart leaps. I turn and look back at her, “For fucking.”

She catches me up in a couple of quick steps that seem more than that dress should allow. I take her in my arms. I wish I was wearing a tuxedo. I’m in jeans and a t shirt. I feel like her bit of rough, and actually, that isn’t _so_ bad. She touches my bottom lip with a finger. “So you think you’re allowed to just shout out the word fucking in my hallway?”

I shrug, looking up at her. “I’ll do whatever you tell me, you know that.”

“Do you really have a tuxedo?”

“Course. There are many stages to becoming a lesbian, Lois. I am past the one where you buy yourself a tuxedo.”

“What’s next,” she says, leaning into kiss me. She tastes so good. Like a milder version of her cunt. 

When she pulls back I say, slightly breathless, “Learn to smoke a pipe.”

“I’m gonna need a copy of this list.”

We settle into the living room, shared by Lois and Alexis. It features a huge plush sofa in dark pink, a matching very fluffy rug and a macbook on the coffee table to serve as our TV. Alexis is out performing, according to Lois, her current performance piece involves lying in a bath full of custard, which is harder than you’d think.

I nod. I can believe that. Lois orders pizza from the great place that just happens to be around the corner from her flat. She asks me to pick a film, while she’s ordering and I find Barbarella on streaming. 

“Oh yes, please,” she says as Jane Fonda starts peeling herself out of a spacesuit. “I love this film.”

“Me too,” I say, settling on to her sofa next to her.

“You know, I remember watching it as a kid. I thought she was so hot.”

“She is hot. So hot in this. But I like…”

“I bet I know,” she cuts me off. 

“What?”

“I know what you were going to say. You were going to say who you really like in this film is the evil queen.”

“The great tyrant,” I say.

“Yeah,” says Lois.

She’s ordered the really good mushroom pizza they do at the really amazing pizza place. She has such good taste. “God, I love mushroom,” I say on my second slice. 

“Yeah,” says Lois, “they’re good. I love all the things that taste of umami.”

“Me too,” I say. “Like you.”

She looks at me, puzzled. “What? I mean umami, like the sixth taste, the thing that’s in mushrooms and marmite and stuff.”

“Yeah. I know. I think that’s what cunts taste of.”

“Do they?”

“Absolutely. I think people often say cunts taste like sweet things, because, you know, we think feminine things are meant to be sweet. But they don’t. They don’t taste like desserts or fruit, but they do taste delicious. But it’s that savoury kind of delicious. Like umami.”

Lois laughs. “How come no one’s ever told me this before?”

“I guess,” I say, taking a third slice, “as a culture, we don’t really talk much about how cunts taste at all, and when we do, we’re either gross or weirdly coy about how they actually taste. Kissing is the same though. When you kiss someone they don’t taste sweet unless they’ve been eating something sweet. Otherwise they taste savoury and good. Besides, wouldn’t it make sense that people are gonna taste like meat?”

Lois swivels on the sofa so she’s facing me. She takes the unbitten slice of pizza out of my hand and puts it down. “I’m veggie,” she says.

“Me too. But I still love the taste of people. Some people.”

“You make that sounds creepy.”

“I think kissing is creepy when you think about it.”

“I think,” says Lois, “we’re thinking about kissing far too much.”

She leans close and kisses me. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by her. Like she’s suddenly brought it all back. All the memories of last week when I knelt in front of her and ate her out and we slept naked in her bed and I feel all of it, at once, like a great cloud of pleasure and delight.

Somehow she gets me on my back on the sofa, her on top of me. I put my hands up above my head, stretching out underneath her, giving myself to her, wanting to. Her thigh is grinding between my legs and she pushing the seam of my jeans hard against my clit. It’s so good. I press back a little, but I hardly need to do any of the work. I feel like she’s explaining to me how she’s going to fuck me. She bites onto my jawline, uses soft teeth on it until I’m moaning. God the things she’s making me feel. I could come from this. I am actually worryingly close to coming just making out of the sofa like a teenager. “Lois,” I say, sounding all desperate and needy. I can tell she likes that.

She pulls back. “You’re right,” she says, “you are delicious. But we’re missing the film.”

“I’ve seen it before,” I say, all breathy and gaspy, still writhing under her. 

“We should still watch the end though,” she says with a mean little smile, clearing enjoying the pathetic state I am in. “Sit up.”

Dazed, I do as I’m told. I squirm around until I’m sitting back in place on the sofa and she slips down and lies on the sofa, pressing her head into my hot, twitchy lap. The weight of it settles there, very definitively heavy on my cunt, but also like a full stop, like a clear sign that nothing else exciting will be happening between my legs for a while. I groan and I see Lois smile to herself as she grabs the slice of pizza I had been going to eat earlier and carries on watching the film. 

After a little bit more of the space adventuring, I tentatively try stroking Lois’s hair. It’s as silky smooth as it looks and so dark and shiny it’s like looking out of a window at night.

Before I know it, were getting close to the end of the film and I have moved on from stroking Lois’s hair to stroking her tits through her dress, which is, I guess, a little forward for a first date, but we have been to bed and, in my defence, her tits are just a delight.

As the credits roll, Lois looks up at me, and says, “You know, I’m being very lax letting you have this freedom to touching me wherever you want.”

I smile down. I can feel the slight raised bump of her nipple with my little finger, even through her dress and a bra. I’m hoping I’m going to get to see later. “Yeah,” I say, stroking gently, “but if you told me to stop wouldn’t you miss out on me touching you.”

“You make a good point,” says Lois with a small hitch to her voice. I rub that little bump again and she makes a sift sighing sound, but then says, “However, I’m missing out on other things too.” 

“Oh? That sounds dreadful. You ought to get whatever you want, truly.”

“Then perhaps we should go into the bedroom.”

* * *

In the bedroom, Lois sits on the edge of her bed. She picks up the same black high heeled shoes she’d been wearing on our last date, left, I think intentionally, ready on the floor. I’m still in the doorway and she says, “Come here and kneel, Pix.” 

“Yes mistress,” I say, all breathy and ringing with desire as I do it, crossing the room and dropping to my knees in front of her. 

She nudges my legs apart with one shoe and I gasp as she presses the sole of it gently but very distinctly between my leg, pushing the seam of my jeans against my cunt. I gasp.

“You like that, don’t you?” she says, a soft coo. Almost mocking but full of affection to.

I nod. She ups the pressure and I manage, “Yes mistress.”

“You think you could get yourself off like this? Rocking against my shoe?”

What do I say? I want to say yes, but the fact is, hot though this whole set up is that would take quite a lot of focus and I’m not even 100% sure I could get the angle right to make it work. So I say, on a breath, “If I was desperate.” 

“Good to know,” she says in that same softly mocking tone. “I have to tell you, Pix, making you desperate is one of my aims. 

“You’ve certainly got all the raw material you need.” I’m looking at her tits again. 

“You remember what I said about dressing up, about ceremony.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s really not good enough. Do better next time.” She smiles so I know she’s being generous. “So you know what I want to do to you?”

“Yes mistress.” 

“Well?”

“You’re gonna fuck me.”

She presses her shoe firmly between my legs, hard against my hot wet cunt and I make a weird sort of chattering noise, and god, suddenly the idea of getting myself off by rubbing on that shoe seems really a distinct possibility. But before I can process that further, she takes her shoes away and stands up. “Take your clothes off,” she snaps. “Get on the bed. On your back.”

I do it and also I somehow manage to keep breathing while I do. Lois has left the room. I think I can guess why. Lois is one of the most elegant people I’ve ever met, but it’s very hard to elegantly put on a strap on harness. So I fold my hands behind my head and wait.

When Lois comes back in she’s still wearing the dress, but she’s swept the split over one hip so there’s basically no dress at the front and a nicely sized black dildo juts out from a spot just above her cunt. The dildo matches the colour of the black stocking and black suspenders she’s wearing. The harness itself is more black straps, black leather, snaking up to her waist. She’s still in heels. I want to cry. The dick and the dress - I’ve never seen anything so hot in my life. 

She stalks over the to end of the bed and stands there staring at me. _Christ_. The she bends over, says, “Let’s get you ready for this,” and starts to strap one of my ankles to the corner of the bed. I hadn’t even noticed the leather manacles on each corner of the four poster. They weren’t there last time. She must have put them in place for this, for me. My mouth dries. she fastens both my ankles and then walks around to the top of the bed and slips one of my wrists into a cuff at the top of he bed. Smiling, then, she climbs on to the bed, straddles me and secures my last free limb, buckling it into the leather manacle. 

When she straightens up over me, back straight and utterly, breathtakingly beautiful, she says, “Okay?”

I nod. Speaking seems to hard. 

“Good because you’re not done yet.” Lois reaches into the front of her dress and pulls out a long strip of black fabric. 

“What’s that,” I say. Apparently I _can_ speak.

“A blindfold,” says Lois.

_Oh._

_Oh shit._

“Lois, I…” I begin.

But Lois just says, “Shush,” as she leans over me and ties it around my eyes, winding the strip around my head a couple of times. And I can’t see anything. I can’t see _her_.

“Lois,” I say again. “Lois, please.”

I feel her hand on my cheek, the sharp shape of her fingernail. “I know you don’t like it,” she says, in that sweet steel voice it’s impossible not to obey. My hips press upwards.

“I can’t see you,” I whimper. The cruelty of it is making me wet, making my cunt burn. Taking away the sight of Lois. Lois who looks like Lois. Who’s all dark hair and tits spilling out of that dress and those shoes and that black silicone dick.

“I know, baby, but you can feel me.” She dips and kisses me. I feel her mouth, warm and wet and tasting like her lipstick, mostly, and a little like the pizza we ate. I try and kiss back, but it’s hard the way I’m tied down. All I can really do is lie there and take it. 

Lois slides a hand between my legs. I moan. The touch is good and welcome and it’s Lois, but there’s something humiliating about being held like this, spread open and helpless, and then having fingers slipping into me, soft in the wet heart of me. That thick honeyed touch that has me arching up, sobbing out, “Please, mistress, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” says Lois. Her voice is delicious, all husky with arousal. “You’re soaking wet,” she adds, which makes me keen and squirm as best I can.

“Oh god, please,” I manage, “Mistress, mistress, fuck me, please fuck me.”

“Say that again,” coos Lois.

“Please fuck me,” I say, half a sob now. I squirm in the restraints but I can’t do anything, can hardly move, can’t see, can’t do anything to get myself fucked except beg for it. But lie this, it’s all I have. Getting fucked is all I have.

“Ah, you sound so desperate. Okay, but first I’m going to take my dress off.”

I whine again, half mad that I can’t see her. “Please mistress, please take off the blindfold.”

I feel Lois move. I’m certain her dress is off. “You,” she says, and I feel a finger pressing to my lips, “you are making a lot of demands. What will you do to have the blindfold off.”

“Anything, Jesus, please. I want to look at you, please. Mistress.” 

“I’m not sure. You looks so cute like this, mad with frustration. I’m wearing a corset by the way. Not the one you’ve seen before. This one’s red.”

I whimper again. That’s all I have. A soft whimpering noise.

Lois slips her fingers between my legs again. “You might at least beg me to fuck you,” she says. The feeling of her fingers skating over my hot liquid flesh is too much, so much. It’s just pure pleasure and I’m saying again, even though it’s mortifying to be made to beg and beg like this. “Fuck, mistress, please, fuck me.”

And somehow, in moments, it happening. Lois moves. I feel her thighs between my legs. I feel the smooth blunt _her_ of her cock sliding through my hot wet cunt into position. With a sigh, she slides into me, and I’m almost sobbing it’s so good.

She fucks me so well I feel like it’s impossible to believe she’s never done this before. Endless hard, smooth thrusts. When I writhe and gasp out, please, touch me, he fingers find my clit and then I’m screaming, coming to quickly, spasming around her cock and crying out. She moves quickly. I’ve barely finished coming when I hear the soft sounds of that harness coming off. She scoots up my body and plants her cunt right on my gasping face. It’s glorious. I’m tied down, spread open and my whole world is her. I plunge my tongue up into her. It’s hard to tell what I’m licking in this position. But I just go for it. Licking and sucking and I trust the she will take advantage of the control she has to just get herself off against my face.

When she does she soaks me. I’m so sticky and wet from her and she’s crying out and coming and it’s so good. It’s just so good.

* * *

A little later, when I’m free to move, but choosing not to move at all and snuggling in her arms, feeling like my body both doesn’t exist at all and somehow exists in a more important and significant way that it ever did. 

“You’re pretty good with that considering.” 

“You don’t have to be surprised about everything.”

“I guess. I mean, but, like, how come you even own one. Have you been planning this for years.”

“It’s for pegging.” 

_Oh. Right._ “Sorry. I kind of forget about stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what.”

“Stuff straight people do.”

Lois gives me a playful smack on my hip. It stings a bit.“I’m not straight. I literally just fucked you.”

I make a soft sort of purr because of the smack. “Alexis says you want to eat me out so you can be sure you’re gay.”

“I do, but not now. I’m tired. I don’t want to do it when I’m tired.”

“You do realise the true lesbian rite of passage is falling asleep face first in some poor girl’s pussy.”

“Where does that come on the list?” 

“Way before the tuxedo.”

Lois makes a soft sound. A sort of unsure sound.

“What?” I say.

“I’m nervous. What if I’m bad at it?”

“Why would you be bad at it?”

“So many people are bad at it.”

“Are they?”

“Okay. Men. Men are often bad at it. In my experience.”

“Well I reckon cut them a bit of slack because if we’re talking cis men they’re coming in with a disadvantage. They don’t know the territory.”

“Maps are available.”

“Maps don’t tell you how things feel.”

“You can ask how things feel.”

“I guess. I don’t, to be fair, think about cunnilingus as a thing men do. I mean, logically, I am aware, but it’s such a queer women’s thing. I just think it’s for us.”

“That’s weird. Do you think only gay men can suck dicks? Because I can suck a dick.”

“Dicks are pretty straight forward though.”

“But really,” say Lois, “I think the problem usually is, you’re only bad at something if you’re not interested in being good at it. It’s like anything. If you want to be good at doing something, practise until you are good at it. That’s how come I can fuck with a strap on. It’s a skill. I’ve done it a lot.”

That’s when I realise something. “Wait has that dick been…?”

Lois laughs. “It’s clean. I know what I’m doing. I know how to clean toys. I mean, you do know men have fucked me, right. You know when eat me out me have done that too.” 

“Yeah I guess. It just seems weird when it’s an object and not a part of you.”

Lois leans in and kisses me and then I forget about everything except kissing for a while.

A little later I say, “Oh do you know my friend Kat. They’re a performer. They do drag. Their drag name is Angel Delight.”

“Shit,” says Lois, “yes I do know them.” 

“I really fancy their drag persona,” I say a little sleepily.

Lois slaps my hip again. “Should I be jealous?”

All I say is, “God, I love it when you slap me.”

And Lois slaps me again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _RIP Pixie Harper. She died as she lived: sexually frustrated in a pub toilet._

In morning, I wake Lois up with my face between her legs. She’s as delicious as always. I lick and kiss her to consciousness and then I lick her cunt and suck her gorgeous little clit until she screams and arches and bucks around so much coming all I can do is hold on and hope I’m licking the right thing. 

When I climb back up to lie in her arms, she says, “What about you? Do you want to come?”

“I don’t mind if I don’t,” I say. “Actually,” I swallow a little swallow. “I kind of like it when you come and I don’t. It’s hot.”

“I see.” Lois thinks for a minute. “In that case, perhaps you’d like..?” she tails off.

“What? I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” A bit reckless, but it’s so hot to say it.

“Don’t touch yourself. Don’t come until I say you can.”

_Fuck, that’s hot_. I’m a bit undone. It takes me a moment to say anything back. “Uh, okay. I can do that. When will you say I can?”

“That’s the thing,” says Lois, smiling very, very sweetly. “You don’t know.”

* * *

I skip off home. It’s the weekend, but I did have a plan to get some work done. Such is my exciting freelance life. I try not to think about the fact I can’t come, which is wildly distracting every time it crosses my mind. 

However, after the evening I just spent with Lois, I don’t exactly have any reason so be wildly horny. Not right now, so I try and focus on lines of code.

On Sunday evening, though, I’m so distracted I send Lois a text that says _I really need to get myself off. I have meetings tomorrow. Can I have permission?_

She replies quickly, thank god. I was worried she’d leave me hanging for a reply. _Okay, you can. But, if you prefer, you can abstain and in return for such heroics, I’ll send you a picture._

_A picture of what?_

_Of me. Right now. I’m at work, btw._

And there’s no way I can resist the idea of seeing Lois in one of her dominatrix outfits, so I text back _Okay, I’ll abstain and take the pic._

She sends me a picture of a pair of feet in bright red, impossibly high heels. When I look at it my pussy seems to stand to attention. I press my legs together, squirming on the sofa.

I text her back _I’ve made a terrible mistake._

_You can ask again tomorrow._

I make it through my meetings on Monday, _somehow_ and when I ask again on Monday night she says. _OK. Would you like something to help?_

_Yes please._

She texts me back a picture of her tits. She’s wearing a black lace bra. It’s gorgeous. Her tits are so nice. I stare at it and push my hand into my knickers. I think about Friday night, about being blindfolded and tied to her bed. And fucked. And then I think about the fact I can’t come, can’t even get myself off and in a weird bit of messed up irony, it’s that that makes me climax. 

_Thanks_ I text back, when I feel back in contact with planet earth.

_No problem. You deserved it._

_Is it weird that I sort if wish you’d sent me that hot picture and then said I couldn’t._

_And I thought you wanted me to go easy on you._

_I guess I don’t._

What the fuck did I just text her that for? What the actual fuck is _wrong_ with me? 

Lois texts back _How about, you wait from now until you next see me. And if you ask me before then I’ll take very dim view._

Christ. That’s alarming. _Okay. But when can I next see you?_

_Do you want to meet some of my friends. There’s a munch on Friday._

* * *

We meet at a pub called Nelson’s Arms. It’s one of those old fashioned pubs with signs outside about how traditional they are and woods and brass fittings inside. Lois meets me downstairs. She’s wearing a black t shirt with a low loose scoopy neck line and black jeans with high heeled ankle boots. She looks sensational. Her eyes are lined with black and her lips are bright red. 

_Red lipstick._

She kisses me when I walk in. I’m wearing jeans too, cut much, much looser than hers. And a t shirt with a logo from a tech company I did some work for years ago. But I’ve made a small effort. I’m wearing a tweed jacket and my wristband. I’ve styled my hair into a neat little quiff.

The munch is held in a room upstairs and as Lois takes my arm and we walk up together, I feel great. I feel like a sexy player with a beautiful woman on my arm. I barely think about the fact I haven’t come for getting on for almost a week and no longer have any control over when I am allowed to.

_Barely_

I’ve heard of munches but never been to one. I have no excuse for that really. There are plenty of them. Even specifically queer ones. With my interests I probably should have gone to one after I broke up with Rachel. And I’ve been meaning to, I really have. But I sometimes have trouble getting around to things. Especially scary things that involve meeting strangers and admitting to being a weird pervert. 

This is not one of those specifically queer munches though. As becomes obvious when we get in the room and, apart from Lois and I, the table is all straight couples. I mean sure, they might not all actually identify as straight but everyone here is sat in a couple, boy, girl, boy, girl like a suburban dinner party. Apart from us and this one tall bloke in jeans and grey t shirt who looks a bit awkward. 

He’s also looking at Lois. 

As she sits down he moves nearer, shuffling to a seat opposite her and says, “Nice to see you here, Mistress.”

Lois looks at him with patient annoyance. “Andy, you know that’s not really okay here,” she says in that pleasant firm tone she sometimes uses with me. And, oh, I _hate_ her using it with someone else.

“Sorry,” he says. I see him swallow like he’s scared of her. Horny scared. _Fuck you Andy. That’s my horny scared._

I want to get between her and Andy. I want to make some kind of possessive gesture. 

Lois smiles sweetly at me. “Get some drinks will you, Pix,” she says. “I’ll have a rum and coke.” 

So I shuffle off to the bar, annoyed that I’m leaving Lois with fucking _nice-to-see-you-mistress_ Andy, but also smug, because I’m the one getting to do something for her. 

There’s a bar in the corner of this upstairs room. I order a rum and coke and a pint of lager. While the barman is fixing my order a sweet looking young woman comes up to the bar and says, “Hi. You here with Lois?”

“Yeah,” I say. I guess Lois knows everyone.

The woman smiles. She has short blonde hair with pink ends. She actually looks a bit queer. But, as mentioned, my gaydar isn’t the best. “I’m Mindy,” she says. “I’m here with my daddy.”

“Oh,” I say, looking where she is pointing. And, I’ll confess, at that moment I was expecting to see some hot bulldyke I’d somehow missed on my first sweep of the room.

That’s not what I see.

Look, I’m not an idiot. But, I know two couples where one of them calls the other daddy, one of them is two women and the other is two men, so when this girl nods towards a guy at the table who is old enough to be her actual father I do a double take. He’s very badly dressed and he has a massive fucking beard . God, I’ve really been in the queer wilderness too long. These people seem so alien to me.

I take the drinks back to the table and sit down with Lois.

“Thanks,” she says, taking her rum and coke. “You okay?”

“Yes. I…” I say, not getting further than that before a middle-aged woman with really huge tits in a very low cut top says, “So, you’re the lesbian.” And look, I am as big a fan of tits as the way I’ve just been addressed would suggest, but it really is, well, it’s a lot.

“I’m _a_ lesbian,” I say. “I’m pretty sure there’s more than one.”

The woman doesn’t look amused. Maybe she doesn’t get the joke, or she does and realises I’m mocking her. Anyway, she just says, “I mean the one dating Lois.”

“Yeah I am, I am that one.”

And that’s where our conversation sort of stalls. I look over at Mindy, hoping to catch her eye, but she’s staring at the guy she calls daddy, like he’s amazing. I mean, maybe he is, I don’t know. But he does not look amazing. I feel sort of small and lost.

“Don’t you like it here, Pix?” says Andy. I don’t remember introducing myself to Andy so I guess Lois told him who I was while I was getting the drinks. 

I sip my lager. “It’s okay. Lot of straight people,” I say, hoping I sounds casual. Like, sure but that’s _fine_

“Is that a big deal?” says Andy.

“I guess not,” I say. “I’m not used to it.”

Mindy’s daddy leans forward. “BDSM’s queer,” he says. Just like that. And sort of _at_ me.

“I’m not sure that’s true,” I say. Because, you know, what the fuck? No it fucking isn’t. Which I am sure of because I am looking at a guy in a creased t shirt and badly fitting jeans and there isn’t queer person on earth who would leave the house looking like he does. So… no. 

“Dom’s right,” says the tits woman. And, oh, of course he’s fucking called Dom, isn’t he? Of course he fucking is.

I look at Lois, she’s watching me, dark eyes sparkling. “Come on, Pix,” she says. “I need the loo.” And just like that, she rescues me, my cruel protector. _God, I’m lucky._

Getting to the toilets in this pub involves going back downstairs and then going down another floor into the basement. Which is good. It means we get a suitably long distance away from the people who were so straight I swear it was making me feel itchy. 

Lois barrels me into a cubical and locks the door. We immediately begin kissing hard. She’s got her back to the door, but she flips us around so I’m the one being pressed up against it and I love that. Of course I do. Lois is wearing heels. She’s about 4 inches taller than me in heels. It’s nice. I feel like she’s a towering goddess and I’m a hopeless minion. My hands slips around Lois’s waist to her arse, which feels as amazing as it looks through the very tight denim.

Lois kisses from my mouth up to my ear. “Hands on the door, please,” she says in my ear. Her voice is sweet and stern at the same time. It is so hot that she said please.

“Yes mistress,” I say, which gives me a buzz. Shit, when did that become so fucking hot to say? I let my head roll back against the door. Lois kisses my neck hard. She’s going to make marks.

Good. God, I want her to. I want her to cover my neck in marks. I want to look like her property. And also, I cannot think of anything better than strolling back into that upstairs room and letting them all see what she’s just done to me.

All of them, but especially Andy, because _fuck you, Andy._

Still kissing my neck, Lois slides a hand between my legs. _And oh shit, why is my cunt on fire?_

I moan, rolling my head against the cubicle door. 

“I like that sound,” coos Lois. “It’s been a while now, hasn’t it?”

“I guess,” I say in a voice that is barely a voice.

“Four days, I believe.” She presses a little harder, drawing her fingers along the seem of my jeans. “How are you managing.”

Fuck, I’m wet now. I’m also, probably, about to die. Just die right here in this pub toilet. _RIP Pixie Harper. She died as she lived: sexually frustrated in a pub toilet._ “Well my evening has suddenly got a lot better,” I manage.

Lois laughs. “I haven’t been to this munch for a while. I remembered it as, I don’t know, a bit better than this. Sorry,” she says, still teasing me into stupidity.

“Sorry enough to get me off?” I try.

“Almost,” says Lois, “but not quite.” She lets go of me and steps away. I open my dazed eyes and stare at her. She lifts up her t shirt to show me the corset she’s wearing underneath, just a quick flash and then it’s down again.

“Fuck,” I say. Then, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

But my moment of rapture is interrupted. Someone bangs on the doors along the row of cubicles. Lois and I exchange shocked glances. Like, oh fuck, we’re going to get thrown out of this pub now for necking in the toilet.

Then, a voice outside the cubicle says, “Lois, you in here?”

Lois looks at me. Her expression is confusing, likes she’s pleased and annoyed at once. “That’s Caleb,” she says, then calls out, “Fuck off, Cal.”

Which means he knows which cubicle we’re in. He bangs on out door again. “I will not, Lois. You asked me to come.”

Lois gives me a wince. “I kinda did,” she says. 

“Come on,” says Caleb outside. “I brought Ray.”

“We should go,” I say.

“You sure?”

“Sure, I am. He brought Ray.” And I turn around and open the door. And there’s Caleb, and a good looking asian man who I’m gonna just assume is Ray.

“Hi,” I say. 

Caleb looks me up and down in a way that makes it clear he has had many updates about my recent sex life. “Hi,” he returns.

Ray leans forward, holding out a hand. “I’m Ray,” he says.

Lois shakes his hand first. “Hi Ray. I’ve heard all about you,” she says, looking at Ray the way Caleb just looked at me. So at least the over sharing is mutual.

“Look,” says Lois, “this place sucks. Shall we go somewhere else.”

Caleb shrugs. “Sure. Pink Elephants is just around the corner.”

* * *

Pink Elephants is a cocktail bar. When we get through to door Lois says to me, “Go get us some drinks, Pix.”

“Okay,” I say. “What do you want.”

“Get me and Caleb cocktails. What about you, Ray.”

Ray turns around from following Caleb towards an empty table. He shrugs. “I dunno. Lager.”

I don’t hate the way Lois casually asks me to do things. I don’t hate it at all. It can be sort of annoying and frustrating. I mean, mostly she asks me to do things I don’t really want to do, like get the drinks and get her coffee, but the fact I don’t want to do them, well, that’s kind of what I like about it.

I like the reminders. I like that I can’t touch my cunt without her permission. I like that she tells me to do stuff and I just have to do it. It’s just so good, in the weirdest way I can’t understand.

And I know, I do know, that probably, really, there ought to have been a conversation where Lois asked me if I was into being casually asked to do things for her, but there hasn’t been. There’s just her doing it and my complicity, because there’s noting stopping me saying, no, it’s your turn, when she orders me off to the bar. Nothing except my excited cunt.

I know she should have asked, but f she had, I probably would have given her a twenty minute monologue about how I like it, but I don’t, but I like doing things I don’t want to do for her and in fact, I’d like her to ask me to do more things at even more inconvenient times. 

I buy beer for me an Ray and some expensive creamy things that come in champagne glasses for Caleb and Lois.

When I set them on the table, Caleb is saying, “I don’t know why you took her there. It’s the worst one.”

“You came,” says Lois, taking her drink from my tray and moving up so I can sit next to her on a padded bench seat. It’s dark in Pink Elephants. The lights are low and the wall and floor are various shades of dark brown wood. Lois glitters in the dark. Little flecks in her eyeliner sparkle. Her glossy lips. She looks amazing. I press my leg against hers.

“You begged me to come,” Caleb says. “Look, Pix, babe, there are much much better kinky crowds I swear. This is probably the weirdest of the bunch. Come to something better. Me and Ray will take you to something better. Come to the queer munch. Or Snakeskin. Or, well, Valmont is next week.”

I’ve heard of Valmont. “Valmont?” I say. “Isn’t that a London club?” 

“It is yeah,” says Caleb. “But they do a night down here, once or twice a year. We’ve had tickets for the one next week for ages.” 

“I’m sure we could get another ticket,” says Lois. “It’s not sold out.”

“Yeah. You’d have to pay full price but I think they still have one,” says Caleb.

“Er, maybe,” I say. Is this me? Am I now going to fetish club nights? Is that who I am now?

“Oh, you’ve got to come,” says Ray. “Take the taste of that awful munch out of your mouth.”

Caleb looks at Lois. “Why, the hell did you take her there, Lo.” He looks at me. “Did you do something really bad?”

Lois thumps Caleb on the arm. But right after he yells and pulls it away she glances at me sweetly. “I think I was just excited to show her off.” 

“Aww,” says Caleb. “How puke making.”

“You never show me off,” Ray says to Caleb.

“Thats because doms are meant to show subs off, not the other way around,” Caleb replies. And I’m kind of surprised by that because I would never have guessed Ray was the dom out of the two of them.


	8. Chapter 8

When we get back to her place, Lois kisses me in her bedroom. I’m a little bit tipsy and when she presses me up against the wall beside her bed, I let myself go soft under her and just wish she could kiss me for the rest of my life.

“Remember what I showed you earlier?” she breathes against my jaw.

“Huh?” I say, because I’m only really aware of the present moment

Lois takes a step back and pulls her t shirt off, she tosses it aside and stands in front of me, hands on hip, in a corset and jeans. This corset is red, it covers her tits and they sort of spill over the top of it like they want to escape. I feel like I’ve just been given some kind of sexy electric shock.

“Are you okay?” says Lois, somewhat smugly.

“I feel like gonna come just looking at you,” I choke out.

“Oh, no,” says Lois, bright eyes flashing. “Come in bed. Come from me eating you out.”

I swallow hard, like a cartoon character. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Besides, if I’m really bad at it I can say it’s more orgasm denial.”

I laugh. “Lois. You could probably make me come right now by blowing on my cunt. A decent gust of wind would make me come.”

Lois looks a little unsure for a second. Like I’m capturing a tiny moment of vulnerability behind the sex goddess she likes to show me. “Okay,” she says, like she doesn’t quite believe me, then adds, in a more confident tone. “Get on the bed.”

I do it. I say, “Yes, mistress,” and do it. I can’t wait. I lose my clothes as I get there so by the time I’m spread out on Lois’s white duvet I’m naked. Lois shucks off her jeans and climbs on top of me in her corset and knickers. The cuffs are still attached to the bed. I get the most incredible view of her tits as she fastens each of my wrists into place.

“I want you to ask me permission before you come,” she hisses in my ear.

Jesus. Fuck. _Fuck._ “Okay.”

Lois curls down and kisses inner thighs. It’s a struggle not to come from just that. But I manage. And then, Lois goes down on me.

It’s a bit clumsy. But not awful. Its never great when it’s someone you haven’t slept with before, because you’re figuring out the pressure and the spots and whether you go for the clit or stay right away from it. But I’m so pent up and horny that she’s hardly going to fail in her mission. It’s only a couple of minutes before I’m writhing on the bed and saying, “Please, mistress, can I…?” 

Lois lifts her head and looks at me. She looks amazed. “Are you really going to?” Her eyes light up with excitement.

“Yes. Jesus. Please, let me.”

“Okay,” she says. “You can.”

She ducks back down, touches my clit with her tongue, and I come. I explode like a star.

She’s quite smug when she releases me from the cuffs and curls up in my arms. I kiss her and she tastes so good. I slip one hand into her knickers.

She’s soaking wet from eating me, which is always flattering. I slip two and then three fingers into her easily and then I fuck her like that. This slippery happy thing in my arms. God, touching inside of someone’s cunt is such a privilege every time. This slick wet heat, they way they grab at you, snatch at you, like the muscles are trying to suck you under. That long dark slide. There’s something eerie about then, something not quite of this world. After a few moments I feel her start to come in a pulse of greedy salt, nothing comes close to this feeling.

It’s the first time I think I might be in love with her.

* * *

Turns out Valmont has a strict dress code.

You can be refused entry if you don’t meet it. Which is very stressful for me. What if I don’t comply with the rules somehow and ruin the evening for everyone?

There’s a long list of things you can’t wear, which includes jeans and suits, which make up 99% of my clothes, and rules out the tuxedo I was planning on. There’s no actual list of what you _can_ wear. 

I click through a gallery of people at the club. It’s not super straight like the munch, but I don’t see much suggesting what fat scruffy butches ought to wear. All the women are fem. I pause at a picture of two of them, in fetish wear, making out. I know it’s pandering to the male gaze, etc, but, in my defence, they are both cute.

Most of the men are topless. Baring their chests in harnesses. I don’t really have that option.

Is it too late to try and acquire a leather tuxedo? Probably.

Eventually I buy a black PVC shirt and a pair of matching shorts on eBay. It looks like a cute outfit, but maybe a little bit boring. I am completely certain Lois will be wearing something spectacular and brain numbing. 

So, on some wild impulse I google PVC sock suspenders. I don’t expect them to exist but they do. They seem wildly expensive for such small items, but I order them anyway and hope they don’t look too ridiculous. 

And then I wait for my spoils to arrive. It’s an easy wait. I’m so happy with Lois, the time passes in a sweet haze. I skip off work on Wednesday afternoon to spend several hours with my face between her thighs and really what more could I want?

On the big day, I go over to Lois’s in the afternoon with my outfit in a bag. Lois suggested we get ready together. An idea I was super into as it combined the twin thrills of watching Lois getting ready and having Lois look at my outfit and agree it was acceptable for Valmont. 

“I was wondering…” Lois begins. She’s lounging on her bed. The outfit she’s wearing is so sexy that when she’d opened the door wearing it the first thing I’d said was, “Oh shit,” because I am not going to be able to resist anything she wants to do while she’s dressed like that, am I? It’s not even her Valmont outfit, it’s her getting ready outfit. She’s wearing a black baby doll nightie edged with pink frills. The whole thing is a fire hazard of nylon, and driving me out of my fucking mind.

Oh, and, it’s so short I can see the lace tops of her hold up stockings and a tiny bit of her thigh just above them. She’s wearing glossy black heels that are so high she only put them on when she was on the bed. “They’re not really for walking,” she’s said with a wink.

I’m kneeling on the floor, because that is now a thing. I’m wearing my underwear, which is way less fun that hers and my face is really close to those beautiful, impractical shoes. 

“What?” I say. Pretty sure she is now about to ask me to do something I absolutely do not want to do. Because that’s what happens when Lois starts wondering. 

And I’m right because she reaches down beside the bed and picks up a glossy black carrier bag, and from inside it, lifts a thick, black leather collar with bright chrome fittings. It matches the cuffs she uses to tie me to the bed. But the idea of it feels very different. The idea of where it goes in particular. “I was thinking,” she says, “you might want to wear this tonight.”

“I’m not sure about that,” I say.

“Why not?”

“It’s degrading,” I say, squirming. “Something like that. And in public.”

“Yeah,” says Lois on a breath. “It is.”

“No, I mean in a bad way.”

“So you really don’t want to?”

“I really don’t want to.” I look at it. It is so fucking ugly. And it would be uncomfortable the entire time. And I have this outfit planned, with the sock suspenders. That are, I am mostly certain, nerdy and cute, not the worst idea anyone has ever had.

“So I was wondering,” says Lois, slipping one glazed leg over the other in a way that somehow just makes me obsessed with the fact that her cunt is the place where those legs join, “how do you feel about doing things you really don’t want to do?”

_Fuck._ I look at her. _Fuck._ “Kind of, good,” I say.

She reaches out. She runs a finger along my jawline. Her thumb slips up and into my mouth and out again. “Kind of good?”

“Maybe you could give me some kind of incentive.”

“You’re nor just going to do it because I order you to do it,” she says with a dark tease in her voice.

“Fuck Lois. I don’t know. Doing something I don’t want to do just because you tell me to do it, especially something as fucking awful as wearing that collar in public, is so fucking hot. But, also, I like it when you manipulate me. Hence, the incentive, could be an even hotter mess.”

“And what might you have in mind, for this incentive, as if I didn’t know?”

She slips her legs over each other again and it’s distracting and making me want to blow my cool and just tell her I’ll do fucking anything if I can just eat her out, just _Jesus fuck please let me taste you_ , but I take a hard inhale and remember she hasn’t let me come since Wednesday and doesn’t even seem interested in doing so any time soon and say, “I’ll wear if it you promise I get to come while I’m wearing it.”

She pauses and looks up as if she’s thinking. “Let me see,” she says in this terrible playful voice that I love. “How about I agree to that deal if I can add one small extra to the mix.”

I swallow, “What?”

She picks up the carrier bag on the bed and pulls something else out of it. She shows it to me. It’s a leash. Black leather and about half of it is shiny bright chrome chain like the fittings on the collar. 

I close my eyes. My heart is sinking down into my cunt. But I nod. What else is there to do?

* * *

When I finally get into my outfit and fix my hair into a quiff, which is newly cut with a sharp fresh fade, Lois looks at me. For a minute her expression is confusing.

“Is it bad?” I say.

“No, no,” she shakes her head. “No. It’s really good. It’s really you. And I love that. I mean, sock suspenders?”

“Too weird?”

She steps forward and gives me a kiss. “Too perfect.”

“Is it weird that my socks aren’t PVC too?” On my feet I’m wearing normal black dress socks. And I have my DMs to go with them.

“I think it would be weird if they were.”

And I breathe a sigh of relief and then forget all about that because Lois says, “Now, wait here on the bed, and I’ll show you what I’m wearing.”

I lie down. My heart is banging in my chest. Lois seems to be gone a long time, but when she comes back into the room I am very glad I’m lying down. 

She’s wearing a catsuit. All black, and so tight she might as well be naked. She looks like something from a science fiction film or some kind of superhero comic when the artist got a bit sleazy. 

It’s so shiny, at first I think it’s PVC, but when she moves nearer I can see it’s not, it’s latex. 

“Do you like it?” Lois says, striking a familiar pose, a hand on one hip.

“I…” How to begin. “I feel like a fantasy I didn’t know anyone else knew about just walked into the room.”

“You wouldn’t prefer something with more frills,” she says, sitting down at her dressing table.

“I do like frills,” I say, rolling onto my side so I can watch her. “But I also like it when you look like you’re going to beat the shit out of me.”

“Oh really,” she says, raising an eyebrow at me in the mirror as she starts on her eyeliner, “You think you’re going to get that lucky.”

“Frankly, yes,” I say, cockily.

She can’t really tell me off too much while she’s doing her make up. I watch her paint her face with red and black and grey and sparkles. She looks incredible, as usual. She twists her hair up on top of her head so it looks like a beautiful puff of shiny black candy floss. When she’s done with that, she turns on the stool to face me and slides her hands in to a pair of gloves in the same shiny black latex as her catsuit. They’re long, past her elbows. And it’s the gap, the bare flesh of her soft upper arms above the tops of the gloves and her uncovered shoulders, that I can’t look away from. Oddly, deliciously naked for being the only part of her not covered in black latex.

She stands up and walks over to the bed, climbs onto it and on top of me, nudging me on to my back and caging my body,

“Christ,” I say.

She reaches down with one latex covered hand and find the top of my PVC shorts. Her fingers slip down inside the waistband. I moan. “You really are a little shit sometimes, Pix,” she hisses.

I make a whimpering noise. Her fingers are almost inside me. 

“And I hope you know,” she says, “because of that, we’re going to have to think about discipline tonight.”

_Holy fuck_. “Yes mistress,” I say. My voice a squeak as her fingers glaze my clit.

Lois pulls her hand away and shoves her wet, latex fingers in my mouth. My brain basically explodes.

She smiles at me and says, “Would you like to help me with my boots, Pix?”

I squint at her, dazed. “Do you need help with them?”

Lois rolls her eyes. “Get on the floor, Pix,” she says. 

I do it and she swivels to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning down to drag from under it a pair of thigh high, high-heeled, patent leather boots. There are a lot of laces to thread.

_How is this my life now?_

Kneeling on the floor in my tight little shirt and shorts. I feel cute. I feel like the cute little servant of an amazing towering goddess. I imagine all I am allowed to do it lace her boots. Nothing more. Even though I might dream of looking up at her face or kissing her or even pressing my face between her legs.

But when I’m done I do look up at her, of course I do. And she looks so beautiful I don’t even know what to say. I stare at her for a long time and the most amazing part of that is the way she stares back at me, like she feels the same way. 

We take a taxi to Valmont’s venue, a country house just outside of town. On they way, we collect Caleb and Ray. They are both wearing leather trousers and leather harness and leather caps. They look like a Tom of Finland cartoon, which I tell them, which they grin happily about. They admire my sock suspenders and Ray even asks where I got them. So I have to sheepishly say I just googled fetish sock suspenders. 

I am glad I have them onside because when we arrive Lois is going to put that collar on me and I really am going to need all the help I can get to get through that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I kneel back up. I’m fucking breathless with arousal. Lois looks like she might just come on the spot. I lift my chin to offer my neck and say again, “Please collar me, mistress.”_

The venue for Valmont is a sprawling country manor set back from the main road out of town by a crunching gravel drive. When we climb out of the taxi, I offer Lois an arm to help her walk on the uneven surface in her towering heels. I gesture I enjoy, naturally. 

_She is a towering goddess, I am here to assist her, just to serve her whims and be used for her pleasure._

I catch a cloud of her perfume as we walk. She always smells incredible, but tonight there’s something extra. A note of something only slight sweet and deeply complexly, musky, almost melancholy. It’s beautiful.

At the doors we have to queue for a few moment, tickets are checked and we are given wristbands. And no one stops me and quietly points out that I am not meant to be here, or that I am improperly dressed, or that I am some kind of imposter and what the hell do I think I am doing on this perfect woman’s arm, which is a relief, frankly. Because I have spent far too much time imagining all those things.

Past these checks we walk up four carpeted steps to a line of doors, wood and brass, and when I push one open, and, naturally, step aside to let Lois walk through in front of me, I’m in. I’m at Valmont.

On the other side of the doors I find myself on the brink of a throbbing dance floor, although the bones of the huge and stately ballroom that has been transformed into this hedonistic playground are still visible. Wooden floor, chandelier in the high ceiling, but, otherwise, it’s dark, strobe lit, full of flashing colours, and oh, actual dancers in cages and on pedestals and somewhere across the heaving mass of bodies a stage featuring some kind of floorshow with, I can’t make out what’s happening on it, something with fire, I think. _Is it safe?_ I guess it must be safe. At lot of the bodies all around me are wearing very flammable seeming fabrics. 

It’s really _a lot_ to take in and, above all, it is _loud_. 

I don’t go to a lot of clubs. I’m nearly 40. I don’t know if I can cope with any of this, or, I wouldn’t, if I wasn’t with her. If I didn’t feel her touch ghosting over my back, anchoring me in this rough sea of light and sound. 

I’m still thinking about this as that hand moves up over my back and taps me on the shoulder and when I turn, Lois is holding the collar. 

_Oh._

Maybe _anchoring_ isn’t quite what she’s doing.

“Lois?” I say.

There are people all around us. But that matters a lot less than I thought it might. A lot of them dressed in leather and latex. And a lot of them wearing collars. For a moment, I think I was foolish to even concern myself about doing something that, here at least, is common place. 

As if to wipe away any last doubts, I notice the way Lois is standing, leaning against a wood panelled wall with her legs apart, one hand on a hip, looking at a spot on the floor in front of her. 

“Lois?” I say again.

“On the floor, Pix,” she says, sharply, but she’s smiling.

I look around. Ray and Caleb have melted away. And sure, I suppose I really don’t want to kneel in front of Lois while I’m surrounded by strangers. But when I look at her, in her skin tight latex, her body just a delight, her face, her hair, the truth is nothing matters like pleasing her matters. The fact I don’t want to do it, just becomes another good thing about the whole situation.

Perhaps, my favourite thing about the whole situation.

Because, god, being told to do things I don’t want to do just makes my clit stand to attention so fucking fast it’s pointless trying to deny I want it.

I take a step, then another, and sink to my knees in front of her.

It’s the best worst thing in the world. I feel a wash of something cold. I’m mortified but, god, it’s also, so fucking good. My heart is beating between my legs. I feel like everyone must be staring at me, but no one at Valmont seems to be paying us any attention at all.

I look up at Lois. From this angle she looks even better. God I love being on my knees in front of her. I love it and hate it. I reach up and touch her latex covered thigh. Jesus, it feels amazing. Warm and smooth like it can’t be a real thing. Alive and fake.

“No touching, Pix,” Lois says firmly. “You haven’t earned that.”

I make a soft moaning noise at that. _Denial, fuck._ I can’t help it. I pull my hand back and say, “Sorry, mistress.” And that straight up just turns me the fuck on. I look at the collar again and remember Lois said I would get to come while I was wearing it. I know this was probably her plan, but I am fucking desperate. I wonder what I’ll have to do tonight to get there. And suddenly, I’m so needy wanting to come _right now_ I can barely breathe.

“Ask me for this,” says Lois. 

That catches me by surprise. So much so that I can’t exactly process what she means by that, and before I can do anything in response she slaps my face. The sting of it is a shock that sparks through me. It’s so good, I don’t even think about the fact that people, random people would have just seen her do that to me. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.

I look up at her. I’m so soft with lust. I fucking belong to her. And the dark, sweet thought drifts into my mind - _that’s what the collar means_.

She’s still holding it and her expression is expectant. And it’s not like I don’t know what she want me to do, what _I_ want to do, really. Quietly, I say, “Please, mistress.”

Lois smiles her slick red smile. “Please, what?”

“Please collar me,” I say, each word mortifying and so fucking hot. I hate this so much and I never ever want it to end. I want Lois to fuck me. I want her to fuck me right here on the floor in front of everyone. I want her to make me beg for it. 

No.

_I know what I want. Even more than that._

I look at Lois once more and say, “Mistress.” I lower my face to the floor in front of her. I get right down there on the scuffed wooden floor of this huge room at Valmont and I kiss Lois’s boots. One toe, then the other. 

Above me Lois makes a soft broken sound which I think is her saying, “Pix. Fuck.”

I turn my head so I can look up at her. I meet her gaze. She looks dazed. I hold her eyes and run my tongue along the side of her boot like it's her sweet fucking cunt. Her eyes seem to pop at me, big and black.

I kneel back up. I’m fucking breathless with arousal and a little smug. Lois looks like she might just come on the spot. I lift my chin to offer my neck and say again, “Please collar me, mistress.”

It takes her a second to compose herself, but Lois bends a little and buckles the stiff collar around my neck and its a sharp point of pride to feel her fumble with the buckle. 

The leash is attached to it. Lois leaves it hanging down my front, and grabs me under one arm. She hauls me onto my feet and, suddenly, she’s back in control. My moment is over. She whirls us both around, so I’m facing the wall, and shoves me up against it, pressing into me from behind, using our height difference against me. She grinds against my arse and I’m just weak. Limp and _hers_.

“Don’t think I don’t know what that was. And I’ve got a crop in my boot, so anymore of that cocky shit and I will make you very, very sorry, Pix,” she snarls.

I swallow. 

_Would Lois really beat me? Do I want her to?_

At that, at the idea of finding out the answers to those questions, I melt even more. Except I’m already a fucking liquid so I just fucking evaporate under her. I turn into nothing but air. “Lois, please,” I say to the wall in front of me.

“Fucking please, what?”

“Please, Lois, mistress,” I say, a little louder. “You can use that crop on me. You can punish me. You can do anything you want to me. You can do anything you want. Just use me.”

“Good,” says Lois. Her tone a sweet mixture of amusement and lust, as she spins me back around, keeps me pinned against the wall as she kisses me deeply. I’m moaning into her mouth shamefully quickly. And then she’s laughing to herself as she leads me, thankfully by the hand not the leash, me by the hand, through the hedonistic throb of Valmont.

* * *

The leash just hangs down my chest like a threatening piece of jewellery as we move around Valmont. There are more rooms beyond the dance floor. A quieter bar area where I see a shirtless man tied to a chair and a woman in high black heels standing in the corner face to the wall. 

Further on, a terrace, where the cool air is a relief and people are stood around in outlandish outfits, mostly consisting of black shiny fabric and bare skin in different combinations. I like it . Especially the women. It’s very hard not to look at the women. A lot. 

The first time I feel Lois’s crop on my skin, I’m staring at a woman with long red hair and a very short red skirt, so short I can see her suspenders popping out underneath it. There are boots too. I don’t stand a chance. And Lois uses the tip of her crop on my cheek to turn my attention back to her. I swear, when I am forced to look back at her stern expression, I nearly come right there. 

She leans in and takes hold of my jaw with her other hand, red fingernails dig into my flesh and I think for a moment about having a tiny trail of sore half-moons across my face as she whispers, “Do you need me to blindfold you, you horny little fucker, because I will.”

I shiver at the thought. Being in this alien, confusing place and being unable to see. Just the threat is a lot of to take. “You don’t,” I whisper back. “You don’t need to. Sorry, mistress.”

“You can apologise to me better than that, Pix,” Lois says, hand still gripping my face so I can’t look away from her. 

“Sorry mistress,” I say again.

Lois smiles one of her terrible, wonderful smiles. “On your knees, Pix.”

I glance around as best I can. The terrace is busy. No one is looking at us. I’ve knelt for her already. But it still makes me shake as I nod, she releases her grip on my and I sink down in front of her. “Sorry mistress,” I say again.

Her crops slides under my chin, lifting it up so I’m gazing up at her. “Kiss. Here,” Lois says, moving the crop and tapping it on the toe of her boot. 

I nod and do so, dropping in front of her. My face almost on the stone slabs of the terrace.

“Now here.” Lois taps the inside of one of her knees. I follow the instructions and press my lips there. I don’t touch her with any other part of me.

“Here,” Lois says, tapping her thigh above the tops of her boots. When I kiss her there I can taste the sour latex and feel the heat of her body.

“Here.” She touches her belly with the crop. I have to kneel right up to reach. She’s even softer there even warmer. I feel her breath catch as I press my lips there. Looking up at her deferentially.

“Sorry mistress,” I breathe.

The crop slips down between her legs. I watch it move, hypnotised. Slipping down until she rubs it in a small circle over her cunt. “Here,” she says gently.

With all I have I slip down her body and pause, mouth hovering a breath from her cunt. I look up at her, hold her eyes, say, “Sorry mistress,” and slowly lick the latex where it slips between her legs.

Her eyes go wide like they did when I licked her boot. 

“Right,” Lois says sharply, “come with me. I need to teach you a lesson about obeying orders.” She takes old of my leash and pulls me back up on my feet.

I am marched back through the bar, but not through to the dance floor. Lois leads me through a corridor and into another, darker, smaller room filled with a very distinctive sound. In it a small crowd of people are standing watch a flogging. A naked man is tied to a St Andrews cross against the far wall. His back is already striped red. He’s moaning softly as the tails fall onto it again and again. 

_Fuck._

He’s being flogged by a woman. She’s very hot. Another redhead. She’s wearing a tight black leather dress and she’s balanced on impossible heels as she makes the flogger dance on the mans back. Watching them, not just her, but the way he’s writhing, the way he pulls once or twice a the leather cuffs holding his wrists, I make a tiny breathy sound. I didn’t think Lois would hear it, but, of course, she does. 

She whispers. “You’d look so much hotter strapped to that cross.” Her hand is on my face, but softly this time. Her lips at my ear. 

I whimper.

“Imagine it. You, stretched out like that. Naked. Helpless. Tits pressed into that frame. Me, making you scream with a flogger.”

“Can you do that,” I say quietly. “Can you use a flogger like that?”

Lois’s crop pokes me in the side. “Of course I can. Want me to prove it?”

I watch the blur of whip tails again. _Fuck._

“Well?” says Lois.

“Now?”

Lois shrugs.

I swallow. For a moment I picture it, being dragged up in front of this crowd on a leash, being punished in public, stripped, strapped down, _hurt_. It’s so hot. But it’s so much. “Lois,” I say. “I meant it when I said you could do anything to me. Truly. If you ordered me up on that thing, I’d do it. I’d do anything you told me to do. But you have to know, the idea of you doing that to me in front of everyone, is fucking terrifying.”

Lois pauses, looking at me. Really looking, like she’s checking something. Like she’s untangling a feeling I can’t untangle myself. “I’ve never really hurt you like that. Is it really something you want. Not here, specifically, but in general? Like, would you like it if I spanked you.”

I swallow. Cold with horrible desire. “Yes,” I say. “I would. I really want that. I want you to hurt me and control me and punish me. I really do.”

“Then I think I really should. But I also think your first time shouldn’t be on that cross.”

Air comes out of me, a sudden exhale of relief. 

“But we have other options. Come with me,” Lois says, as if I have some kind of choice in the matter as she grabs the lead and pulls me away.

I manage to bear the humiliation of being lead around this way as Lois takes me through into a wide hallway. There’s a staircase plunging through the middle of it. People are queuing on the stairs. Lois leads me over and we join the line.

“What’s this for?” 

Lois give me a mischievous look. For a second I think she’s not going to tell me, then she says, “Couple’s rooms.”

“Couple’s rooms,” I say back a little dumbly. Then, “We’re a couple?”

Lois frowns at me. “Of course we are.”

_And he soft warm glow that spread through me then it the sweetest of the many sweet feelings I’ve felt during this overwhelming night._

We reach the front of the line relatively quickly. There’s a middle-aged man guarding access to the couples’ rooms. He’s wearing a tight blue rubber shirt. He eyes us up quite sleazily, then says, “You two a couple?”

Lois nods. “Sure are.” She lifts her leash holding hand. I don’t know how I feel about that. It’s a little hot, I guess, to have Lois demonstrate her ownership of me so blatantly, but, maybe this grouchy guy is not the person I’d like her to make that demo to.

“You need to prove it to use the rooms. Because of drugs.”

Lois looks at him for a moment, then shrugs, turns and grabs my hair with both hands. I don’t have much hair. Two handfuls is more or less all of it. It hurts and I gasp, and while my mouth is open, Lois leans in and kisses me deeply, twisting her hands in my hair.

When she pulls back I am lost with the pain. Lois looks at the grouchy man. He looks jaded, like he’s seen everything before, including couples like us. He waves us through with a casual sideways nod. 

I pass him, scalp stinging, walking on air.

The set up past the boundary is like a set of changing rooms. We walk along a narrow corridor with unmarked doors to the left and right. From behind them I can hear sex noises and other more rhythmic sounds, spanks and more. Sounds of punishment and pain. I swallow. God that all sounds so good. After we pass a few Lois says, “This one is free,” and pushes one of the door open. 

I follow her into a little room. It’s dim inside, just lit by one small lamp on the floor. There’s a narrow bed with a white sheet on it and one white pillow. The floor has the same dark wooden boards as every part of Valmont. Next to the bed is a tufty red rug. I can still hear the throbbing pulse of the dance floor, leaking in through the walls.

Lois pulls me close and gives me a little kiss on the lips. Both her latex-gloved hand snake behind me, sliding over my PVC covered behind. It feels good. I really do get the idea of these clothes. Covering yourself in frictionless fabric means a lot of unusual, delicious sensations when someone else touches you. I make a soft moaning sound into her mouth.

Lois pulls back a fraction and whispers, “I’ve been looking forward to getting you out of these slutty little shorts all evening.”

“Mistress,” I say back on a breath. I’m not sure what else to say. And then I say. “I just want you to use me for your pleasure.”

Lois gasps. “Say that again.”

I look her in the eyes. “Use me for your pleasure, please. Mistress. Do anything you want to me.”

“Get on that bed. On your hands and knees.”

I do it. I get up on the bed and into the odd and slightly humiliating position as Lois walks up behind me. She strokes me again then slips her hands under me unfastens then pulls down the shorts. 

I swallow a feeling of shame as she bares my arse to the air like that. The position I’m in changed from slightly humiliating to very, very humiliating. Lois strokes her hands over my bare flesh. Finds a little of it and pinches. I yelp.

“Are you ready, Pix?”

I know what that means, what all of this means. I look stoically at the plain white wall in front of me and say, “Yes mistress.”

Then all there is left is the sound of Lois’s heels on the floorboards as she takes a step back, and the swoosh before the crop hits me on the arse. 

_It really fucking hurts._

I hiss with the pain. And when Lois hits me again, I feel something more, a low, distinct burn begin between my legs. _Fuck I want to come right fucking now. Christ._ The third time she hits me I cry out. The fourth time, “ _Lois_.” There are tears on my cheeks. “Mistress, please,” I wail.

The pain is blinding, overwhelming. I don’t know where I am. But the idea of it is almost even more intense. The idea that I am here, being punished. Being treated however Lois wants to treat me. It’s turning me on like nothing ever as even as it hurts like Christ.

I wail and cry and pant and fucking _burn_ through ten strokes. And by the end, although I try to focus on looking at that wall, I fall back to nothing, in the end, everything is pain. 

But when Lois drops the crop and slips her fingers between my legs I am soaking wet and the feeling is _sweeter_ than anything I’ve ever felt. I’m stinging sore but I feels so very worth it.

She has two then three fingers inside me quickly and easily, a thumb rubbing my clit. I’m gasping and so close when Lois whispers, “Ask me first. Don’t you dare come without permission.”

I’m not sure I know how speaking works. I'm still so sore and all I want to do is glide on Lois hand under I come, and I guess the need to come is a big one because I somehow manage, “Can I come?”

“You can do better than that. Ask properly. Say please and call me mistress.”

“Please can I come, mistress,” I garble out as my need suddenly becomes urgent. I whimper because if she doesn’t say yes, I’m not sure if I can _not_ come.

“I could stop right now and make you wait another week.”

“No please,” I whine. I can feel the edges of my orgasm, starting to flutter. “Please let me. I can’t, I can’t wait. Mistress _please_.”

“You sound so desperate,” Lois coos, like this is amusing her.

“I _can’t_ wait,” I sob. And I really really can’t. It’s taking everything I have to hold it back.

“You’d better. If you come without permission you’ll be very sorry. And very sore.”

I want to cry all over again. This is worse than the crop. “Lois,” I say, in a sort of burbling helpless rush. “Either let me come or stop touching me, please.” I finish in a gasp that sounds like pain and might as well be.

But Lois’s thumb still moves on my clit. “I suppose that does sound suitably desperate,” she says as I try to just keep breathing. “Okay, Pix, you can come. Come right fucking now.”

And I do. I scream like and animal and come so hard I practically leave building…

There’s a long soft moment as I come down. But Lois is still inside me, still stroking my clit. “Lois,” I murmur.

“You’re not done,” she says quietly.

“Lois,” I say again, and then, as I realise what she means, that she’s working me back up again, I say more plaintively, “No, no please. I can’t.”

“Of course you can. Good girl. Come on do it again. For me now.” And she’s winding me back up to another peak. I look at the blank wall in front of me. I don’t think it’s possible for me to come again after an orgasm like the one I just had and yet, and yet…

“Please mistress, can I come,” I press out _somehow_

“There we are. Yes you can,” says Lois working circles around my clit until I come again, even harder… My arms go. I face plant on the bed, screaming and sobbing.

_But she doesn’t stop touching me._

I hear Lois’s stern voice saying, “You’re not done, Pix.”

“No, please.” But I know now that’s useless.

“Come on baby. Another one, for me,” she says that so soft and sweet I fucking can’t say no.

“Yes mistress,” I manage. It comes out like a weird chattering sounds, as Lois brings me back up and I come again with a whimper. So hard it’s almost like pain.

“You’re still not done, baby.”

“No, no, please don’t. Please. Please don’t make me.”

“You can do it, Pix. Just one more.”

“No, _no_ ,” I whimper, face buried in the bed now. My whole body a screaming nerve. I just need it to stop. I need it all to stop. 

I’m about to insist, when Lois says, “I know you can. For me, baby. For me. You’ve been insisting I do what I want, I use you for pleasure. I want to see you fucking come again.”

“That is not,” I moan through a mouthful of drool, “what I meant.”

“Tough,” says Lois. 

And then it’s too late. I really am going to come again whether I want to or not. I am a helpless mess of tears and spit, soaking wet everywhere I can be and I’m sobbing, “Yes mistress, yes. Oh god, _god_.”

As I come again. Screaming for mercy I hope I never get.

_We’re a couple._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lois laughs lightly at me and says, “I’m not going to let you come, Pix. Go to sleep.”_

The morning after Valmont I’m in the kitchen making Lois coffee. When I got up, Lois was awake, but not quite enough to tell me what to do. But it’s not like I don’t know what she wants when she wakes up. So I just leaned over, kissed her hair and said, “I know, mistress, I know.”

Usually, I hate getting out of bed, especially on a Sunday, when I don’t have to and I’m all warm and snuggly. And if you’d told me a month ago that I’d eagerly jump out of a bed that had a woman as beautiful as Lois in it, I would have laughed. Really. But I fucking love making Lois coffee.

And, I could just say, that’s because I’m falling in love with her and I like making her happy, but it’s not exactly that. I like doing things for her, because it reminds me she’s in charge. I don’t _want_ to get up and make her coffee and that’s why I love doing it so much.

And that’s also why I love running a hand over my ass and feeling the sore ridges she left there last night. When she hurt me, I didn’t like it at all, which is why I loved it so much.

I’m wearing knickers and a t shirt because I thought I might run into Alexis, but the flat is very quiet. I don’t think she’s here. Which is nice because although I am sure it wouldn’t phase her one bit, Lois hasn’t taken the collar off me yet. 

I haven’t asked her to. I’m not thinking too hard about why not.

Okay, I am. I love wearing it. I love the feeling that Lois owns me and I guess I’m not ready for that to end yet.

_I don’t want it to end ever._

While the coffee pot is coming to the boil I get a text. It’s from JJ and it says

_hello. are you alive?_

_Yeah. Sorry. I know I’ve not been in contact much._ I type. Feeling guilty that I’ve been caught out being _that_ friend.

_how was valmont?_

See I’m not bad. I had told the Whats App group Lois was taking me to Valmont. 

_Good. Really good_

_So this new woman is everything you hoped?_

_Everything and more_ I type back. Which is slightly cringe, but what can I say? She is. She really is. I’m wearing a fucking collar. I don’t even remember how many times she made me come in that room at Valmont. Not to mention the fact I’ve been told I ought to be ready to make the memory of all those orgasms last a while. Because she’s going to make me pay now. She’s going to make me suffer.

_Good. I hope it’s weeks and weeks. But it’s not up to me. Also good._

Last night, when we got back, we fell into bed and Lois cuffed my hands behind my back and I ate her out like that for as long as she would let me. She tasted faintly of latex, which added a strange sense memory to the whole thing. It was very, very hot and when she finally made me stop and pulled me up next to her on the bed she said, “You’re so good at that,” as she freed my wrists. 

I wriggle happily next to her, smug and delighted. “Thank you, mistress.” I take a breath and say, “I enjoy it. Especially when you tie my wrists and when you’re like that.”

“Like what?”

“Really turned on. Really wet,” I say. Because I do and she was, god, she was. Soaking and sticky and delicious. I can still smell it all over me.

Softly Lois says, “That’s because I really enjoyed hurting you.”

Oh. “I enjoyed it too, mistress.” I sound like someone in porn, but, I mean, it’s true. If anything, I’m downplaying it.

“Did you? Do you _like_ it? Being hurt?”

“Not exactly, mistress.” I shrug, pushed up against her. “I like things that are bad if you like them. That’s all I can really say. The fact I don’t like it is good. Better. It makes it better if doing something for you is bad for me.”

“That’s lucky, Pix, because I think I’d like to hurt you more. A lot more.” She sounds all breathy when she says that and it’s hot. It’s really fucking hot.

“You can hurt me as much as you want,” I say into her cloud of dark hair. Which is reckless, I guess, but that’s how I feel. I can’t imagine saying no to her. I press closer and grind a little against her bare thigh.

Fuck. I don’t know how I can still be turned on, but I am.

Lois laughs lightly at me and says, “I’m not going to let you come, Pix. Go to sleep.”

“Yes mistress,” I say.

“I like the way you say that.”

“What? ‘Yes mistress’.”

“Yeah,” says Lois and she sounds a little dreamy.

“How do I say it?”

“Like you mean it.”

“Oh,” I say softly. Not sure really how to reply.

“Are you alright to sleep with this on?” Lois reaches out and taps the collar.

“I’d forgotten I was wearing it.”

Which is the truth.

* * *

Back in the kitchen JJ texts back _So, deets? How old is she?_

_She’s 32._

_Job?_

_Dominatrix_

_Fuck. Like in all the leather and shit?_

_Yep_

_Fuck. Have you been to the dungeon. Has she done it on you._

_Not been to dungeon but making her coffee in a collar right now._

_Fuck. Naked?_

_She has a flatmate._

_Jesus. Fuck. Please Pix, bring her to lunch_

_Lunch?_

_Sunday lunch. At the pub. Today. We’ll be there at 2._

_I’ll try/_ I type as the coffee maker fizzes that it’s ready.

I carry two mugs of coffee into the bedroom. Lois is sitting up in bed playing with her phone. She’s naked. Or at least, all that I can see of her is naked. I look at her tits a bit. They’re so wonderful. They’re not particularly big or anything, they’re just my favourite tits in the world. 

“You want something, Pix?” Lois says, amused.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” I say, setting down the coffees.

I pull off my t shirt and then my knickers and then I get down on my knees next the the bed. I’m naked on my knees beside the bed wearing a collar and something about that is, well, _fucking incredible_.

I try not to get distracted, because _god_ am just one tiny flicker of concentration from forgetting what I just promised JJ and begging Lois to let me go down on her. Maybe I could tell her if she’d only let me push my tongue into her cunt she could hurt me afterwards. Beat me. _God, that’s a nice idea. She gets off and in return, I get to suffer._

_Ugh, be strong Pixie Harper._

“Well?” says Lois, picking up her coffee and bringing the cup close to her mouth. She didn’t take her make up off last night. There is still the faintest stain of lipstick on her mouth. “Because if you’re about to beg me to let you come, I’m not going to stop you, but I’m also not going to let you.”

“No, I…” 

_And oh shit I wish she hadn’t said that because, god though, do I want to? Would that be so good. Begging her on my knees, whining, please mistress, please let me, knowing she wasn’t going to let me…. and I need to stop that or I really will have to beg her to let me come._

“Mistress,” I say. “Can we go out to lunch and meet my friends?”

* * *

We walk from her house to the Queen’s Head holding hands. Which I love. I feel so good to be with her, to have people see I’m with her. 

I miss the collar. God, it’s weird to think I hated the idea of it when she first showed it to me. But now it’s gone and we look like any other pair of queers going out for lunch.

Lois is only dressed in a black jumpsuit and trainers, but she looks so beautiful. I can’t wait for all my friends to see her. I’m wearing a tweed jacket that makes my shoulder look nice. It’s a warmish day, like spring is coming. I wish it was a little cooler because Lois’s arms are bare in her jumpsuit and maybe if she got cold I could take off my jacket and drape it around her shoulders and that wold be nice.

And maybe I’d be a little too cold then, which would make it ever better. Perhaps it will be colder on the way home.

_And I am, I am falling in love._

“Pix,” says Lois. “Can I ask you something.”

_You can do anything you fucking want._

“Sure.”

“You really like this stuff. The kinky stuff. I mean you’re not just a bit kinky, you’re really kinky, really into it.”

“Er, yeah, I guess,” I reply kind of awkward and embarrassed but she’s not wrong.

“So, like, how come you’ve never done it before me?”

“Oh, right, well, I guess just because I got together with Rachel just after university. She wasn’t into anything like that. We were together a really long time.” 

“You stayed with someone who didn’t meet your needs for that long.”

“I wouldn’t say she didn’t meet my needs. I loved her, and, really, I thought I was lucky to have her. I was. She sort of saved me.” I take a breath. _Ah, here’s a story._ “When I met Rachel I was in love with Carol. My best friend. All through University. She was straight but she was really flirty with me. So I kind of thought maybe there was something there but there wasn’t. I was just imagining it. But got hurt pretty bad in the end. I told her I loved her and she freaked out and we weren’t friends for a while. And then I met Rachel and it was, like, oh thank god. Until a year and a half ago when we broke up.”

“Why did you break up. I mean, don’t say if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.” But I look at my boots on the pavement for a second before I answer. “Babies. She wanted kids. I didn’t. She decided to go find someone who wanted to raise kids with her. But, you know, that’s the official reason. I think, we’d just been together too long and were both looking for a reason to leave. When we broke up, we hadn’t had sex for five years.”

“ _Woah_. So when you with me, was that the end of a five year drought?”

I laugh. “No. Sorry. I’ve two one night stands since Rachel. The five year drought was actually broken by a very nice girl called Alma. She was a goth. She had things pierced I didn’t know could be pierced.”

“I think you can get anything pierced.” 

“This, I have discovered. And, you know, it’s not like I didn’t try, after Rachel, to get with someone kinky. I thought, with Alma, when I met her, I just met her at a club night at Q, you know, the club?”

“Yes I know.”

“I thought because of all the black and the eyeliner and the jewellery, she’d be like you, but she wasn’t, she was like me. So in the end I just went down on her and sort of imagined in my head she had told me to do it and I guess she did something similar. But it wasn’t terrible. I still see her around.”

“Perhaps you should introduce her to me.”

“Absolutely not.”

* * *

Kat is there, when we settle down for lunch and they air kiss with Lois and I’m glad about that because it is hard work meeting a whole bunch of people you don’t know.

And Lois is just wonderful and charming and I eat a lot of Yorkshire puddings covered in gravy, which is extremely good.

At one point, JJ leans forward so she can speak to Lois past me and says. “So I hear you make Pix make you coffee with a collar on,” loud enough that the whole table can hear. And, I mean, they’re all my friends and we know a lot about each other’s sex lives, but, god, it’s terrible, and also amazing and I feel very smug. 

It gets even better when Lois turns to JJ and puts her hand on my neck. It’s not super intense or anything, it would just be a casual touch apart from where it is and what we’re talking about and says to JJ. “That’s right. I do. _Jealous?_ ”

JJ looks stunned and just nods her head. And, after that, she is completely besotted with Lois and Sal is fine about that, because she is a saint.

After lunch people drift off, and we end up the last two left at the big table in the window. I’m tired and full and I’m drinking a pint of beer and Lois is drinking a gin and tonic and I have my ams stretched out along the back of the seat behind her and I feel great. 

Under the table, Lois has a hand on my knee. Until she doesn’t. Until she has a hand on my inner thigh, tracing up the seam of my jeans with a fingernail. 

_Fuck._ It’s so hot I have to shift position a bit to get comfortable. I manage not to make an embarrassing, awful, desperate noise, but only just.

Her finger slides higher. And, god, I can just picture her beautiful hands. That nasty perfect red fingernail. I could probably come from her doing this. If I was desperate. 

And if I was allowed. 

That’s when I make the noise. It’s a gasp, soft and shaky. And it’s not loud enough for anyone but Lois to hear but it’s still _mortifying_.

“At least a week, Pix,” Lois says as she takes her hand away.

I bite my bottom lip. “Yes, mistress,” I say, then add, “Thank you, mistress. Make me wait.”

Lois gives me a slightly stunned look at that, which is nice, and mutters, “Fuck.” I can see her shift in her seat a little, so I guess that got to her. She picks up her drink, swallows a mouthful and says, changing the subject, “I can’t believe I was talking to Angel Delight just casually liked we’re friends.”

“Really?” I say. “Kat?”

“Yeah. I mean her stuff is so arty and out there, and I just do very basic burlesque. I didn’t think they’d bother with me. I’m so boring in comparison”

I’ve never seen Lois be insecure before. It seems so strange to me that she would ever think like that about herself. “The last thing you are is boring,” I say, reaching for my glass and taking a drink. “Besides, I love what Kat does on stage but really, can she do what you do?” I lean closer and whisper. “Can she make me get on my knees and beg?”

“If she asked you dressed in her stage gear I think you’d do it.”

And _fuck_ , Kat’s stage gear is really fucking hot, so maybe that’s true. But maybe it isn’t “Sure, I might but would her eyes light up when I did it. Because I think that without that it would get boring. I love doing what you say, but the reason I love it is because you want me to do it. It turns you on when I’m on my knees. You were so wet after you’d hit me with that crop.”

_And even when I hated it, I loved what it did to you._

“You always know what to say, Pix,” Lois says. 

“I love you,” I say. I don’t even think about it. I just say it.

Lois looks at me with her black ringed eyes all wide and shocked. “Fuck,” she says.

I shrug.

“Fuck, Pix,” she says again and then twists and little and leans in to kiss me with a small bite to my lips.

I sink into the kiss, dreamy and happy. And it’s almost a shock when a voice says, “Well, you move fast.”

We break apart and look up and the spiky haired butch staring at us.

“Hey,” I say, sounding a bit throaty. “Hey Sam.”

“Hi Pix,” Sam drawls. “Heard you were dating a straight girl. This her?”

_Oh shit._

“What? Come on, Sam. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“You some kind of stud now. Converting the _bicurious_. Well you know where I am when she leaves you for a man.” And with that, Sam wanders off back to a group playing pool at the back of the bar. When she gets there she says something to one of her friends and they look back at us and laugh.

_Oh. Shit._

“Fuck, Lois. I’m sorry about that.”

“Friend of yours?” says Lois tightly.

“No. I mean not really. I know her.”

“Is that what your friends think?” Lois says quietly. “That you _converted_ me?”

“Lois, really, I swear, that was _not_ one of my friends.”

“Do they though? Do they think that? Have you told them I’m straight?”

“No.”

“Because, you know, you didn’t change me, I was bi before I met you, you know. you didn’t invent me. You didn’t change me, you were just my first.”

“I know. I don’t think that. Lois, that was Sam, Sam’s just.” And, oh, I really did not want to get into this, into the Sam thing, because I’m not proud of it. But, I guess after that she deserves to know. “You know, on the way here, I told you that between you and Rachel I’d had 2 one night stands. And I told you about Alma. Well, that was Sam and Sam was the other one.”

“Sam, are you kidding? But she’s so… I thought she wouldn’t your type. I thought you liked fems.”

“I do. I really do. But Sam, as you might have noticed, is really mean. And, a while ago, before you, I sort of liked it. I had a sort of crush on her the way you might have a crush on the school bully. God, I’m not proud of it, it was a stupid way to feel but I wanted to be topped and hurt so much. And after Alma. I dunno, I thought I might have to choose between a dom and a fem. I thought the idea of a fem who also wanted to boss me around might be impossible. And I knew Sam was a top so, one night I was here and so was she, and I sort of went for it.” 

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened. We went back to hers and fooled around. Got each other off and she was bossy and I did like it. And she made me kneel in front of her while she drank a beer and ignored me, which was pretty hot. But she’d had a few drinks already and after that beer she wanted to fuck me. I thought she was too drunk and might hurt me, like properly not nicely, and said no, that she couldn’t. And she said it wasn’t up to me and she tried to hit me, like punch me, but missed me and I left.” 

“Jesus.”

“It was nothing. I mean, what really happened? And she’s embarrassed about it. That’s why she’s being a dick to you. She’s being a dick to me, really.”

“Oh, right,” says Lois thoughtfully. “I’m glad you didn’t choose between a fem and a dom. I’m glad you waited for me.”

“So I am.”

And then Lois leans close and presses her lips to my ear. She smells of gin and tonic and quietly, actually _shyly_ she whispers, “I think I might love you too.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’m trapped, hands bound, hair in her fist, cock rammed down my throat. I’m so helpless and my mouth is stuffed, forced wide open and so full. I can feel her inside me. I choke. I suffer and I struggle. And when she pulls me off and frees my mouth and looks at me, I look back, glassy eyed and lost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a bit later than usual. Should be Sundays going forward.

I’m lying on Lois’s bed and we’ve been making out for ages. It’s nice. I’m really happy.

I’m on my back and Lois is propped up on her elbow, looking down at me. She looks happy too. I’m in a t shirt and my knickers and she’s in that baby doll thing I just _love_. It’s afternoon, sunny outside and the light coming through Lois’s gauzy curtains is sparkly and romantic. 

Lois reaches over me and her tits brush over my face, but I hardly have any time to enjoy that before she leans back and I see what she’s holding.

“Can I put this on you?”

“I…” 

Lois is holding the collar I wore at Valmont. I pause and swallow. I kind of don’t want to, but I also want Lois to make me do things I don’t want. And I want her to know that. “Lois, you always can. You don’t, you don’t have to ask me. I mean, you can just tell me I’m wearing it. You can just tell me what to do.”

Lois narrows her eyes at me and then stretches them wide like she’s realised something. “Damn it.” She shakes her head. “You know, Pix, I’ve kind of fucked up at bit.”

I find that hard to believe. In my eyes right now, Lois is perfect. “Have you?”

“Yeah. We should have had this conversation ages ago. We should have talked properly about what we both want. You ought to have a safe word. I should never have done that stuff at Valmont without it.”

“I guess.” I shrug against the pillows. “But that’s not _you_ fucking up, that’s both of us. I could have started that conversation too. Or asked for a safe word. But I never felt like I needed one.”

Lois flashes her eyebrows. “I _beat_ you at Valmont.”

“I know,” I say, reaching up to touch her cheek. “And thank you for that, but I wasn’t tied down or anything. If I wanted it to stop I could have just told you to stop and if you didn’t I could have pushed you away.”

“I guess. But I have tied you up before.”

“I could have said something.” I pause. “But it doesn’t matter now, does it. I’ve been fine without one so far, but maybe I ought to have one now, because…,” I swallow. My mouth is dry at the thought of what I’m going to say, “I would really like it if you tied me up and hurt me.”

“Oh,” says Lois, slightly overwhelmed. “Then we should definitely pick one for you.”

“But put that on me first,” I say, nodding at the collar. “Put that on me and don’t give me a choice about it. And then we’ll pick a safeword.”

I watch Lois’s face. Her expression changes. It’s kind of subtle but I know it now. It’s the way she shifts when she’s gonna give me an order. “Pix,” she says. “It’s time you had your collar on.”

I lift up my chin. “Yes mistress.”

Lois sits up and swings a leg over me, straddling me. She’s naked below the baby doll and I get a little flash of her beautiful cunt which is enough to make me squirm a little. And then, when she leans over me, wrapping the collar around my neck, I get a close up view of her delicious tits, spilling out of her low neckline.

When she fastens the buckle, the feel of the collar is distinct and obvious, it feels so good, like a low, slow burn between my legs. And I’m _desperate_ to come. It’s been a week since Valmont, and Lois has not been feeling at all generous.

So I end up squirming and panting, in a shamefully short time.

Lois runs a fingernail along the edge of the leather at my throat. “You like it, don’t you,” says Lois. “You like your collar?”

“Yes mistress. I like my collar. I like feeling like you own me.”

Lois makes a soft sound of approval and strokes my cheek. “So, do you want to choose a safeword? It can be anything. Any word. Best if it’s something you won’t forget. And something you won’t want to say, like no, or mercy.”

I sigh inside at the idea of saying no or mercy to Lois, then gaze up at her, then past her, around the room. I look again at the gauzy curtain softly moving in the breeze like a romantic fantasy, and I say, “Curtain?”

“Curtain.” Lois nods. “Okay, you won’t forget?”

I shake my head no.

“Curtain, it is,” Lois says, dropping her face to mine and kissing me. As she our lips meet, she wraps her hands around each of my wrists, pinning them to the bed above my head, she she controls every thing about the kiss, giving and taking on her own frustrating rhythm. It’s moments before I’m bucking my hips. One of her legs is between mine and I’m trying to grind against her as she laughs at me and moves, twisting away from me so I can’t. “Now then, as we have a safeword, what shall we do with it?” she says as she pulls back leaving me panting and wanting. 

I’m already stupid with arousal so I say, “I’d only really need a safeword if I was tied up. _Restrained_.”

“Oh,” Lois cocks an eyebrow at me. She’s still pinning me to the bed. “Are you asking to be restrained?”

“I don’t…” I stop, awkward and embarrassed to have suddenly exposed my desires so blatantly. “I mean. I guess, yes, you know I like it.”

“It’s an easy request to fulfil,” Lois says. 

My heart leaps up into my throat as Lois lets my wrists free and reaches up. She pulls each of the leather cuffs from where they are still attached to her bed posts and buckles each one around a wrist. I gasp when it’s done, held and helpless. It feels so good. I roll my hips and look up at Lois, dazed with horniness.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” she says.

I pull at little at the cuffs. I love the feeling of not being able to get free. I’m too soft with arousal to say more back to her than, “Huh?”

Lois softly slaps my face. It’s more of a tap than a hit. It’s nice, kind of patronising. “Thank me,” she says, more sternly. “I did what you wanted, didn’t I?”

I gasp, “Thank you mistress,” I say, breathily. “Thank you for restraining me.”

“Better,” Lois says with a smirk. “Now. What else do you want?”

“What? No. I don’t _decide_.”

“Oh? I thought you did whatever I wanted.”

“Not _that_.” I pause, but Lois just looks at me, waiting. “Lois, please. _Mistress_. I don’t want to.”

“Do you really think squirming and moaning and begging like that is going to change my mind.” She drops onto my body and whispers in my ear. “It turns me on, Pix. Complain as much as you want, I’m still going to make you do it.”

“Please don’t, mistress.”

Lois puts a finger under my chin and lifts it a little. She looks into my eyes. Full of mock concern. “Please don’t what?”

“Don’t, I…” I stop, gasping as Lois slides a finger into my mouth.

“Don’t what?” she says again. She slides in a second finger.

I try and speak while she’s sliding her fingers in and out of my mouth, fucking my mouth with her fingers, and I manage, suddenly, “Please mistress, make me suck your cock.”

Lois pulls her fingers out of my mouth and looks at me. She blinks. “Really?”

“Fuck,” I say, I’m still half gone with it, the idea of it, “please, mistress. I want to choke on your cock. Don’t be gentle. Make me take it.” I look right into her eyes. “Please, make me take it.” I squirm in the restraints. I want Lois to hit me or kiss me or something.

“Pix,” Lois says, a sort of log, turned on breath. “Are you sure?”

“Lois,” I say carefully. “I have a safeword. You don’t need to ask me if I’m sure. I like things in my mouth and I like the way you look when you’re wearing a strap on and…, I want to choke on your dick, mistress. Can I? Please?”

Her eyes light with excitement and she says, “Wait here.” 

Lois slips off me and off the bed and rummages underneath it. She pulls out her harness and a big, delicious looking shiny black cock. I swear my cunt gets wetter just looking at it. 

And the thought that her cock is not going where I‘m currently aching for attention, but in my mouth, just makes me feel more desperate and stupid than ever.

Lois wriggles into the harness and fits the dick while I’m still day dreaming about how much I want to get fucked and want to come and how Lois can do whatever she wants to me.

When she’s done and the head of her cock is pushing out from between the frothy frills of her baby doll, she looks at me, hands on hips. She’s so beautiful. And something about the combination of her cock and her feminine clothes always sends me slightly into headspace. 

“You know, Pix,” Lois says. “There is a traditional posture one normally adopts when one is preparing to choke on cock.”

“Yes mistress,” I say, sounding desperate. But there’s not much I can do about that. I’m still tied to the bed. I pull at the cuffs to demonstrate.

“Oh no,” says Lois. “Are you having trouble getting on your knees for me?”

“Yes mistress. Please untie me.”

“And why should I do that?” says Lois with a delicious swing of her hips. 

“So I can do what you want. So I can get on my knees for you.”

“And,” Lois looks at me, puzzled, “why would you want to do that?”

I swallow. “So I can suck your cock, mistress.”

Lois leans forward, her silicone dick butts up against my chin. I strain for it, feeling desperate for it in my mouth. Lois grabs my hair and steadies my head. “You,” she says, “are a greedy fucking slut.”

_Fuck_. I moan and squirm underneath her. “God. Yes mistress. Please. Please let me.”

Lois pauses, makes me wait, and I make a soft keening noise, before she says, “Alright. As it appears you will die otherwise, I suppose I’ll let you.”

She leans in. Her dick looms even closer to me, but I still can’t reach it. She unclips the cuffs from her bed, leaving them around my wrists and slides off me, repositioning sitting on the edge of the bed. “Go on then you little slut,” she says. “Get on the fucking floor. On your knees.”

I scramble into position, kneeling between Lois legs. Her dick is jutting up at me. I hope I don’t have to work too much harder to suck it. I want it so much.

“Huh,” Lois says, starting at me. “Fucking eager.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Okay, well, get your shirt off so I can see your tits while you’re wrapping your greedy fucking mouth around my dick.”

“Yes, mistress,” I say, hurling it off as quickly as I can, and then Lois, as I expected she might, leans over me and connects the cuffs behind my back. “Just so you don’t forget your place,” she whispers in my ear, finishing with a tiny bite to the tip. 

I gulp and manage to say, “No, mistress.”

“You want this?” Lois nods at her lap.

“Yes, mistress.”

“Ask for it.”

“Please.” I pause. I swallow. “Please may I suck your cock, mistress.”

“Perhaps, I’ll let you. First, kiss it.”

“Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress.” I lean forward and kiss the tip of Lois’s cock, gently and reverently. It tastes of nothing, but I can smell she’s wet and that makes me moan.

“Huh. As desperate for it as I thought,” Lois says, “Lick it.”

I do it. I gasp as I do. And then I look up at Lois with big pleading eyes. “ _Please, mistress please_ ,” I say, I _beg_ , voice cracking.

Lois takes hold of a handful of my hair and pushes my head back, exposing my throat. She touches my neck with her other hand and I shiver with pure vulnerable terror. “You could have asked for anything,” she says in a nasty hiss.

“Yes, mistress.” My voice shakes. It’s probably arousal but it sounds like fear. 

“You could have asked me to get you off.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“You must be some special kind of slut to beg to suck a fake cock.”

“Yes, mistress. Yes I am mistress.” _God, Lois’s hand on my neck. Still on my neck._

“Say it.”

_Ugh_. “I’m a special kind of slut, mistress.”

“Okay then,” says Lois, and, as she says it, she shoves my head forward and I just about open my mouth in time to take half her cock down my throat, deep, my face buried in the ruffles of her skirt, her cunt a breath away. She works me by holding my hair, lets me up and then shoves me down again. I’m gagging and drooling in seconds, my eyes are watering. 

I’m trapped, hands bound, hair in her fist, cock rammed down my throat. I’m so helpless and my mouth is stuffed, forced wide open and so full. I can feel her inside me. I choke. I suffer and I struggle. And when she pulls me off and frees my mouth and looks at me, I look back, glassy eyed and lost. 

She shoves me back down. She forces me to take almost all of it. She fucks my face. She uses me like a hole. She makes me into a drooling, moaning, cock sucking bitch. By the time she hauls me off and pushes me down on my back, I’m fucking lost, I’d do anything she asked. 

She pulls off the harness and straddles me on the floor. Not astride my waist like she was on the bed, but astride my neck. Looking up all I can see is her cunt, wet and pink above me. 

While I watch, she slides her fingers into it. 

“Mistress,” I moan, at this incredible, terrible sight. It’s so hot but I wish, I wish…

Lois voice hitches as she says, “Do you wish this was your tongue?”

“Yes, mistress,” I say and it comes out a stupid whimpering sob.

“Oh, you want it do you? You want to press your filthy tongue into my cunt?”

I sob underneath her, writhing on the ground in pure frustration. “Yes, yes.”

“And I know what else you wish,” Lois says, voice heavy and thick. She’s close, she’s so close. “You wish this was your cunt. You wish I was touching you like this, getting you off like this. But you can’t, you don’t get to do this, don’t get to.. uh, _ahh_.”

Lois comes right in front of my face, fingers slipping, clit proud and juddering like a tiny greedy living thing. I moan under her, feeling like I could almost come myself from the sight of her, and so fucking turned on from the fact I can’t.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Oh no,” says Lois. “It seems you’re in such a state you can barely ask me for what you want? That’s going to make your life awfully difficult.” She slips her hand from my waist down the front of my body where it’s pressed against her, over my belly._

I spend the next few days at home. I have work to do and there is part of me that wants the distance. I’m can as be as enthusiastic and U-Haul as any other lesbian, see my relationship with Rachel as a case in point: rushed in too quick, stayed too long. I don’t want to be like that with Lois, I don’t want to rush, I want to savour every part of this beautiful unfolding magical thing. It’s hard though. It’s only been a few weeks and it feels like forever. 

Lois and me, it feels weirdly, uncannily perfect, but I try not to think about that too much. I don’t want to jinx it.

I am, it must be said, walking around with a stupid smile on my face a lot of the time and marvelling at this deep sense of well being, but I’m trying very hard not to think about things like _the future_. Things like _forever_.

After she came over my face the night before, Lois and I got back into bed and took a nap and when we woke up we ordered pizza and watched random things on You Tube. It was nice. 

Sweet and domestic and nice and…

No, in case you were wondering. No she didn’t let me.

The conversation we had about that, actually went kind of like, “Mistress, can I ask a question?”

And that was kind of hot to say, because we were just watching things on her laptop and not doing anything kinky at all, although I did still have the collar on, and so it was kind of fun and hot to just call Lois _mistress_ out of the blue, because it kind of made it feel like Lois being my mistress was a permanent state of affairs, not something we just did when we were having sex and that… just fucking ht.

Also nice was the soft little cooing noise Lois made in response before she said, “Hmm?”

“How long is it going to be?”

“How long is _what_ going to be?” Lois replied. Knowing full well. 

“You know. How long are you going to make me wait?”

“Oh _that_.” Lois slips a hand around me and strokes my waist. I’m still naked, never got around to getting dressed again. Lois is wearing the robe she wore to open the door for the pizza. Suddenly that discrepancy in how we are dressed, and the admission of the power she has over my body feels very, very potent and very, very real. I press against her, realising I’ve just made the whole situation a lot worse for myself.

Lois chuckles, so I guess she’s realises it too. 

“The thing is,” says Lois, still stroking me in a way that is just _maddening_. “The thing is, the whole _beauty_ of it is, you have no idea how long it’s going to be .”

“Lois please, I…” I end that sentence because I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I want. Do I want to know. Would it help? I think I just want to fucking come. I’ve waited so long my horniness is on a hair trigger. I can go from watching You Tube and eating pizza to writhing and ready to beg and offer anything to be allowed to get myself off in, what was that, less than a minute. I’m a fucking mess in her arms, squirming like a fucking bitch. It’s so humiliating. 

“Oh no,” says Lois. “It seems you’re in such a state you can barely ask me for what you want? That’s going to make your life awfully difficult.” She slips her hand from my waist down the front of my body where it’s pressed against her, over my belly. 

_So close_. I whimper, “Fuck, _please_.”

“I don’t think so, Pix,” Los says, letting her hand slide away again. She sounds amused.

“I’m glad this situation is entertaining for you,” I say and my voice sounds thick with need and frustration.

“Oh it is. Very,” Lois says and as she speaks she slips her hand over my belly again, dipping low until I moan and then she skates away laughing softly. “But since you did ask, it’s gonna be at least another week, Pix.”

_Another week._

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK._

“What?” I say. My voice sounds shaky with the shock of that. But something about it, something about that cruel control has just rocked through me. I’m more turned on that ever and I even feel, strangely, as if not coming, not being allowed to come, is so hot and so good it’s almost _better_ than coming. I turn my head and look up at Lois, she’s gazing me with a delighted light in her eyes. “Fuck,” I say softly. Then, “God, thank you, mistress. Thank you so much.” I swallow. “I love you.”

Lois smiles. “Good girl. I love you too. So much, Pix.” But then her smiles turns wicked. “If you like it so much, perhaps I should make it longer. Perhaps you should wait until your birthday.”

I look at her with a pained expression. “My birthday is two months away.” Because that’s a ridiculous idea, but also, fuck. _Fuck that’s hot._

Lois just laughs at me and says, “We’ll see.”

“Thank you, mistress.”

Lois sighs happily and snuggles me in closer to her. I feel so good. 

“God,” I say, “this is so hot. Why is this so hot?”

I feel Lois shrug against me. “No fucking idea.”

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to. I really want to fucking come. I want to come so much it’s painful. But also…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let me. Make me wait. Make me go to sleep like this night after night, wishing I could come, dying for it, my cunt just _aching_ for it and not being able to do anything about it because I do whatever you tell me.” 

“Oh Pix,” Lois coos into my hair.

_Oh fuck._

* * *

In the morning I made Lois coffee and because she had eggs and bread I made breakfast too and I knelt on the floor while she ate it and thought about how beautiful she was and how I had no choice about doing everything she said until I was fucking burning up between my legs.

She’s nearly finished when she says, “Do you want to go away somewhere?”

I look at her slightly dazed, still preoccupied with my cunt. “Huh?”

“There’s a burlesque festival next month. It’s in Hebden Bridge. In the peak district. Do you know it?”

“Of course I know Hebden Bridge. It’s the town full of lesbians.”

“Is it?” Lois makes a face like this is news to her. “Have you ever been there?”

“No. Always wanted to. Full of women with sensible haircuts and even more sensible anoraks. Paradise.”

Lois shrugs. “So, do you want to come with me. I’m in a showcase. I’d love you to see what I do on stage.”

“I, I’d love that too,” I say, a bit overwhelmed by the idea. Although in my current state I’m overwhelmed by Lois eating toast.

“I haven’t performed since Lost Horizons. You know, I’m not clever or quirky like Kat, like Angel Delight. I do a very classic act. I just take my clothes off to music.” 

“Yeah. You know there’s no way that could be a let down for me.”

“Sure,” Lois taps my nose, with a soft finger and that’s enough to make me gasp and wish she’d slapped me.

Lois laughs, “God, you’re worked up.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“What I mean is,” says Lois, getting back to her topic, “we could book an Air BnB. Have a little holiday. It’s not to soon is it, for that?”

Lois looks a little unsure when she says that. So I lean across the bed and drop a kiss on the bit of duvet that covers her thigh. “Of course not. I’ll book something nice when I get home.”

* * *

I next see Lois the following Friday night. She usually works Friday nights, but she had a cancellation, so I’m feeling pretty lucky. And I hope my luck holds. 

She makes me strip and puts the collar on me, then directs me to sit on a chair she’s placed in the centre of her bedroom. When I do she ties my hands together behind it.

Lois is wearing a black t skirt and a black pencil skirt, which is hot enough, frankly. even without the black stockings she has on and the black shiny high heels. And I have no idea what’s going to happen. I don’t even ask. I’m pretty confident it’s going to be good. 

I’m even more confident when the music starts. I don’t know the song, because I’m bad at keeping up with that kind of thing, but it’s low and bassy and sexy and Lois is standing in front of me swinging her hips and…

_Oh, fuck, she’s going to give me a lap dance._

I don’t know how Lois knows that I have secret, slightly shameful, slightly male-gazey, fantasies about extremely beautiful women giving me lap dances, but I very, very much do. I assume she guessed. It’s not much of a stretch.

I never thought I would be tied the chair while the lap dance was happening. But that just makes it even better. As Lois takes a step closer so she’s stood between my legs and pulls off her t shirt, I think, fuck, my real life is actually somehow fucking _better_ than my sexual fantasies. 

Under her t shirt Lois is wearing a leather corset, high cut, over her tits. Her cleavage looks incredible. I gasp out loud. 

Lois wets her lips and smiles. “That’s why I tied your hands, Pix. No touching during a lap dance and you’re so desperate right now, I knew that would be tough for you.”

I look at her for a moment, slightly stupid with lust, then manage to say, “Thank you, mistress.”

Lois rolls her head back in time with the music, showing me her white throat. Its so hot. She’s so beautiful. She raises her elegant hands and lifts her hair up on top of her head. 

My wrists jerk in the ropes. I don’t even mean to. I don’t know how to stop myself trying to touch her. She notices. She winks at me. And then she slinks out of that skirt. 

Now, I like the skirt. The skirt is tight and a very sexy sort of vintage shape. It’s so hot. But when Lois takes it off, I forget it ever existed, because under the skirt, Lois is wearing stockings with a thick band of black lace at the top, suspenders holding them up. 

_And no knickers._

“Mistress,” I say in a sort of whine as if she’s _hurt_ me. But she just smiles at me as she slips back over my lap, knocking my knees together so she can straddle my bare legs and then, _she sits down._

We are skin to skin, heat to heat. It’s overwhelming. My head rolls back and I gasp and Lois dips in and kisses the crook of my neck, kisses and then licks and nibbles and bites and keeps going until I am moaning.

She reaches one hand behind herself and touches my knee, then trails her fingers down my inner thigh. I moan like an animal. I am incoherent with lust. I am a wet, hot, useless thing, a desperate wet-eyed mess. 

“ _Slut_ ,” Lois whispers in my ear.

“Yes mistress,” I gasp.

“Hmm,” Lois croons as she moves her hand, slipping it down, this time between out bodies, over my belly, between my legs until I make that same desperate cry of, “ _Mistress_.”

With her other hand, Lois lifts my chin and stares into my glassy, lost eyes. If she doesn’t let me come I really am going to start crying properly. I’m on the edge of it. “What are you, Pix?” Lois says.

“I’m a slut, mistress,” I say. It comes out such a garbled fucking mess. I’m so sensitive everywhere. I feel like every hair on my body is standing on end. I feel like I have a mild sunburn on every inch of my skin. “I’m a slut who’s so desperate to come. Please, let me, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything? How nice. Beg me.”

“Please, mistress. Please let me come.”

Lois licks my ear. “Do better, slut.” Her fingers are right on the edge of my cunt. Her weight in my lap. Her bare skin on mine. 

I don’t know how I can do better. Tears really do start falling them. My voice is cracking as I begin, “Please, mistress. Mistress, _please_. I know I’m a slut. And I’m desperate. And I know you don’t have to let me. You don’t. You can make me wait. You can tease me as much as you want and still make me wait because I belong to you and I don’t get to come unless you want me to come. I know that. But please, mistress, please, let me. _Please_.”

“You’re saying I can make you wait even longer if I want to?”

“Yes,” I sob. “Yes, mistress. You can. You can do anything you want.”

Lois doesn’t say anything. But she slips off me, onto her knees between my legs and when her tongue touches my cunt my body jolts so hard it’s only my tied wrists that keep me on the chair.

She licks me light and teasing and it feels so good. I’m still fucking crying.

It’s really not going to take much.

When get close I’m, gripped by the idea she’ll stop before I come. That’s she’ll twist her tongue around my clit until I’m right on my fucking screaming edge and then stop and it’s that, it’s fucking _that_ that finally makes me come like a bright white flash that never fucking seems to end.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Can I do anything to make you feel better? You know if you’re tense and nervous.”_
> 
> _“Like what?”_
> 
> _“Like, um,” I swallow, “Like, do you want to, to take it out on me?” I’m breathless when I get to the end of the sentence._

I got quite a nice AirBnB. There weren’t many options, a lot of the places was booked up because of the festival. So I spent more than I planned and paid for a little cottage. And that’s fine because my god she is worth it. It was pricey, but it’s only tiny, with an open plan living room downstairs and a tiny attic bedroom.

I don’t get to see the bedroom. At least not at first because as soon as we are through the door, Lois has me pressed up against one of the cool white walls of the cottage, kissing me and pressing her thigh between my legs and hard up against my cunt.

And _of course_ she’s kept me denied for a whole week before we ever arrived so I am a fucking _mess_ for her, moaning into her mouth, “Please, mistress. Please let me come.”

I mean, I know she’s not gonna let me. I know she’s not. I know her pretty well now. But I also know, she likes it when I beg to come. And I love it when she tells me no.

“I’m not going to let you, Pix,” she coos against my cheek. And the rush from that, the rush of her power, my powerlessness. It’s so good.

It’s also awful. It’s torture. I’m going to have to wait until after the show, at least. And this would be fine if I could put it out of my mind, but I also know Lois well enough to know she won’t let me. 

We shove our bags in the bedroom and unpack minimally, laughing and kissing. We’re both slightly high with it, being away together. It’s just such a good feeling _Love._

But after that’s done, I make Lois some coffee, after quite some time studying the cottage’s coffee machine and then googling it on my phone. At one point, when I’m stuck, I say, “I don’t know if I can figure this thing out.”

And Lois, on the sofa, says very sharply, “Figure it out.” And that’s very hot. And I do. But when I bring her the coffee she seems a bit distracted. Upset, even.

“You okay?” I say, sitting down next to her on the cottage’s little sofa. There’s a fireplace in front of us with a vase full of pampas grass in it and I was thinking I might kneel there, but I get the impression, for right now, I ought to be a girlfriend not… a sub.

A sub? Is that what am? I guess that’s what I am.

“Sorry,” says Lois, taking the coffee. “Thanks for this. I was just thinking about the show tonight. Soundcheck’s in an hour and, I was starting to get a bit of stage fright.”

“You. You get stage fright. You. The all powerful goddess who I worship body and soul.”

Lois cracks a smile then. “Oh shut up.” She takes a sip of the coffee and sets in down on the side table.

“Hey.” I grab Lois around the waist and pull her into my lap. It makes her laugh. I spread my legs to make a better space and nestle her into me. Lois is taller than me, but I can feel big and masculine with her sometimes. I can feel wide and soft and safe. “You’ll be great. Why wouldn’t you.”

“It’s like what I said about Kat. Everyone has a gimmick these days and I just do a classic strip.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to just do something simple really well. People will get that.”

She nods. “People will love my immaculate glove peel.”

I kiss her chin. “I bet. What’s a glove peel?”

“It’s the way you take off a glove. There are a lot of ways, you know.”

“Really. There are different ways to take off a glove? I’m so uneducated.”

“Yes, just a dumb little sub, aren’t you?” Lois’s teeth glitter when she smiles. “But sure. You can peel it off from your elbow, you can pull the fingers, you can tug it off with your mouth.”

_Oh._ “Oh.” I squirm in her lap. 

“And then.” Lois drops her voice. She holds out one of her manicured hands. “You display you naked hand to the audience.”

“God that’s hot. Hands drive me fucking crazy.”

“Do they?” Lois puts her hand on my mouth, she draws a fingertip along the line of my lower lip. 

“Yes.” Lois is being very distracting, but I manage to keep talking. “Hands are hot. And are the things you use to get yourself off and other people off more often than not. I spent all my university years staring at women’s hands. Mostly Carol’s hands if i’m being honest.”

“Carol?”

“You know, the straight girl I had a crush on.”

“Oh, her,” says Lois, slipping the finger into my mouth. “It’s about time you forgot about her.”

And Lois is right. I suck on her finger and she makes a very nice noise about that, so, I think, maybe I could offer to help her out the way I first thought I would. When she slides her finger out of my mouth, I say, “Can I do anything to make you feel better? You know if you’re tense and nervous.”

“Like what?”

“Like, um,” I swallow, “Like, do you want to, to take it out on me?” I’m breathless when I get to the end of the sentence.

“Oh.” Lois’s eyes seem to get bigger and brighter. “Oh fuck, yes. Get your clothes off.”

Lois jumps up off my lap, and I get up as she sits back down on the sofa. While I’m pulling off my jeans and t shirt she’s rummaging through a bag on the floor. 

When I’m naked I feel awkward. It’s cold. I’m in this unfamiliar room where it feels odd to be naked. I put one arm across my body and without really looking at me Lois says, “Don’t do that Pix. Keep your arms down.”

“Yes mistress,” I say as I do it and if feels horrible not to be able to even cover myself. 

So I am very glad of the distraction when Lois pulls the collar out of the the bag and says, “Come here and kneel for this.”

I do as she says and I’m already very worked up. And that’s before Lois pulls the paddle from her bag.

And again my brains says _Oh._

She’s looking at me, a little expectantly. _Oh God, please don’t ask me if it’s okay. Please just do it. Do whatever you want._

She says, “I’m feeling really stressed out, Pix and it’s your job to make me feel better, so I’m going to spank you with this.”

_Fuck. Yes._

But also.

_Oh. God._

“Yes mistress. You can do whatever you want.” I swallow. “That looks painful.” The paddle is small. Table tennis bat size. Black leather with silver studs around the edge.

“It is. Very.”

_Oh god._ “Good.” I’m so into this, god, I’m so into being used like this. Being hurt as a service. 

“Beg then,” says Lois darkly.

“Please,” I say, wondering how I can still use words. “Please hurt me. Please hit me with that. Please use me to make yourself feel better.”

“You said you wanted me to use you, to take my stress out on you. Do you still want that?”

“Yes, mistress. Please.”

“Get over my lap, Pix. I’m going to hurt you.”

I get onto the sofa and lie over Lois’s lap. Her hand strokes my arse. Her hand feels good. Even when she give me a little tap of a slap.

What doesn’t feel good, is the paddle. The paddle, when she hits me, square in the centre of my arse make me yell and buck. God, I _hate_ it. One big smash of sharp, strong burn. And when the second one comes, right on the skin that still hurts I yell, “Lois, fuck.”

And she gasps and hits me again.

She spanks me with that paddle until I am sobbing and drooling and everything feels like it’s burning. And I barely know who I am when she tips me off her lap, stands up long enough to shuck down her jeans and knickers and pulls me back into her soaking cunt to get her off with my mouth.

I do it blindly, hurting. Drinking in the taste of her like it’s healing me.

She comes and the shock of it shakes through me, reminding me that I’m probably not going to. And it’s all a lot and I just feel soft and good for a long time, lying on the floor of that cottage room, by that fireplace murmuring, “Did it help, mistress.” And getting the response, “Yes,” as Lois pulls a throw down off the sofa onto me, and holds me, and I’m half asleep when Lois unbuckles the collar and says, “Babe, we’ve got to go.”

* * *

After Lois has left me to go to her soundcheck I walk around for a bit. I’m still a little dazed, but mostly fine. I’m still sore but I like that. 

I stop off at a little teashop and have a cup of tea and a muffin. While I’m eating a cute butch across the room gives me the eye. I look back at my muffin bashfully and think, I’m taken.

* * *

And I’m still sore when take my seat in the big old fashioned theatre for Lois’s showcase. There are eight acts and an ebullient compere. It’s all very entertaining. There is a lot of lipstick and complicated underwear, but even though this is my idea of heaven, and a lot of the women on stage are really incredibly gorgeous, I only have eyes for Lois. I just want to see her.

She’s the penultimate act. So by the time she hits the stage, I’m in a low-key frenzy of desire. She steps into the spotlight with her hair up, polished and black like a helmet. She’s wearing a long red dress that glitters in the light, tiny thin straps on her shoulders, long gloves and bare, beautiful shoulders. Her lips are a mesmeric red and her eyes are lined black. She is so beautiful I just can’t believe it. 

How is she my girlfriend, like _how_? I slip down in my seat.

Lois strips to a brassy sexy piece of music. I don’t know what it’s called but it does sound like the classic kind of strip tease music. Almost like what we’d hum in the playground for a joke. But Lois turns that joke around, she’s so polished and perfect and classic, it’s almost like she’s doing the most adventurous thing of all. 

She unzips and sheds the red dress to reveal a red corset, stockings, suspenders and high heeled red shoes. I make a soft little noise at the sight and another, when she shimmies to the music, teases the audience with the tops of her tits, spilling out of the corset. She does the glove peel, taking off the long gloves with her teeth and showing off her hands with a wink. She unclips the corset and drops it to reveal a silky red bra, then loses the bra and is topless in pasties. She dances more, spinning them and finally takes down her hair from it’s tight updo into a gorgeous loose cloud.

* * *

When the show is done I’m not sure what to do, where to go and wait for Lois, but a woman I don’t know comes up to me and says, “Pix?”

“Er, yeah?” 

The woman is small and cute with short dark hair, she says, “Lois wants you to come and meet her backstage.”

_Backstage._

_Back stage at a burlesque show._

Which is only one of my fantasies come true. One of my dumbest teenage dreams. When I was young, watching movies like _Showgirls_ and _Burlesque_ and anything I could get my sticky little gay paws on growing up, anything about women putting on and taking off lingerie. 

Usually in my fantasy I’d be their sort of butler. I’d be in a smart little suit and they’d all boss me around and maybe slap me or pull my hair if I didn’t fetch and carry for them fast enough. Use me as a footstool or make me stand facing the wall while they changed. Catch me peeking and slap my face or pull me over their knee to spank me in front of everyone.

Sometimes I’d imagine them making out with each other too. 

It’s kind of fatal that I think about that as I follow the short-haired woman.

The backstage room I arrive in isn’t like the movies, or like my fantasies that are based on the movies. The women from the show aren’t all sitting at mirrors with lights around them. It’s more chaotic. The rooms is crowded with clothes and glitter and almost naked women. I don’t know where to look and then Lois emerges from the haze in a silk robe and grabs me and kisses me and whispers, “Was I okay?”

“You were, you were great.”

Her eyes are sparkling. “Good. Come back here.”

Lois drags me back, though the room, into a corner, where a door leads out to a small cold corridor and a flight of stairs, behind the stairs is a tiny toilet cubicle. Lois drags me inside, shuts the door and shoves her hand right down the front of my jeans into my knickers. I yelp, “Lois.”

Her fingers are practically inside me. “I just wanted to see how much you liked it.” She smiles. “You’re very wet.”

“What do you expect after watching you do that, still sore from you spanking me.”

Lois sighs. She’s still stroking me and it’s _difficult_. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“That’s not all, actually.”

“Oh?”

“No. This is literally one of my adolescent fantasies, to be backstage somewhere like this.”

I’m not sure if I meant to tell her, but with Lois stroking my cunt the way she is I can’t really help myself. So I tell her about the butler thing. In detail. When I’m done I’m writhing on her fingers, struggling not to come and my voice sounds like I’m choking.

Lois laughs. “I’m not sure if I could get everyone here to act that out. But if you wanted to watch me making out with another performers, that could happen. Sadie’s bi. She’d do it. She’s the one who did the mermaid act.”

I nod, mostly beyond speaking. I remember the mermaid. Not as hot as Lois, but very beautiful. Curvier and shorter. I nod, “Yes please,” then, “Jesus, Lois, you need to stop that or let me come.”

Lois finally pulls her hand away and puts her fingers up to my mouth. I lick them clean. _Fuck I really was soaking._

“So,” I say, after a moment to calm down, “if Sadie’s bi and would do it, how come you haven’t slept with her before, if you wanted to get some kind of lesbian sex attainment box checked. I mean, of course I’m glad you did it with me, but…”

Lois shrugs. She leans back against the wall of the little cubicle. “I never fancied Sadie.”

“What. Sadie’s so fucking hot. Are you kidding me?”

“My type isn’t…,” Lois takes a breath like this is awkward. “I’m not really into women who look like me. I’ve always fancied, I dunno, K D Lang.”

“You are not old enough to know who that is.”

“I did research. But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. You’re an old school fem who likes butches.” 

“I am and, you know, it bothered me. I always thought it meant I wasn’t really bi. Like, I just fancied women who reminded me of men. So it didn’t count.”

“Babe. You don’t have to bang a Sadie to prove you’re queer enough. You like what you like.” 

Lois wets her lips. “But you’d like it if I banged Sadie.”

_Shit._ “Er, yeah.”

“You wanna watch us make out.”

“Fuck. I mean, look, you don’t have to. But it would be nice.”

“What do you like about it?”

Now it’s my turn to be a bit awkward. “Jesus,” I manage. “It’s me. I mean two of you, in all that fancy lingerie, taking it off each other, messing up your hair, messing up your make up, getting lipstick all over each other’s mouths. God. Touching each other with those nails.” 

“Like lesbian porn for straight men?”

“No. I mean, yeah, I guess it is a bit like that but just because they like it does that mean I’m not allowed to.”

Lois shrugs. “You like what you like. “

“Sure. Although I don’t think that one should never question what one likes. Sometimes it’s worth examining what you like, like say, if you’re that daddy dom guy from the munch you took me to.”

“Which I’m not.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to see him bang Sadie.”

“It’s very unlikely to happen. But, I don’t feel you’ve told me enough about your fantasies about me and Sadie.” Lois moves close to me again. I think she might put her hands back down my jeans, but she just puts it on my waist. A relief, really. 

“I’ve told you quite a lot.”

“You haven’t told me where you are?”

“Me? Where I am?”

“Yes. Are you there?”

I breathe out. “Yes. I am. But I’m not allowed to join in.”

“Oh? That sounds interesting. “

Here we go then. In for a fucking penny. I mean, would Lois even be surprised, at this stage. “You’ve tied me to a chair.” I say, like it’s being dragged out of me. “You’ve tied me to a chair and I’m at the end of the bed watching, but both of you just completely ignore me, like I’m not even there. I can’t do anything, even while the hottest thing I’ve ever seen is happening right in front of me.”

Lois leans in and kisses my cheek and makes this half sympathetic, half mocking face that I’m getting kind of used to, “Poor baby. Can’t even touch yourself.”

I look at her with steel in my eyes. “I can’t do that anyway.”

“Oh yes. How long has it been. I can’t remember.”

I give her a vicious look, but say, relatively sweetly under the circumstances, “Seven days, mistress.”

“That long,” she says. “You must be desperate.”

“I am if I think about it.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah.” And that hand on my waist is now sliding, over my hips and onto my sore arse and her other hand between us, slipping between my legs and rubbing me again but this time _through_ my jeans. I can hardly feel it actually, it’s just the idea of it. Just what it could feel like. My brain fills in the gaps. “Fuck,” I whisper as my cunt feels like she’s just held a match to it and the fire spreads fast, right through my entire body. I half slump against her, like all my muscles just shut down.

“Imagine,” whispers Lois, “how much worse this is going to feel when you’re tied to a chair watching me and Sadie fuck each other.”

“It’ll be torture,” I say. Amazed I can speak at all.

“Oh, I do hope so,” Lois coos in my ear.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Shut up, bitch,” Lois snarls at me. “You get nothing. You keep interrupting and you don’t even get to watch.”_

The bedroom in the AirBnB is soft and romancey. A bit much maybe, but I like it. A big attic room with exposed beams and whitewashed walls. 

The bed is big, but flat and boring - I guess I now think beds are boring now if they have no obvious points to tie me to. 

It’s the afternoon. Everything is arranged. Sadie is keen and on her way. Lois is standing in the bedroom wearing the jeans I really like, the tight ones and a big black t shirt that hangs off one shoulder.I can see a single black bra strap, which is driving me a little wild because Lois would not let me watch her get dressed and I don’t know what else she has on underneath and I know it’s something good. 

“Go and fetch me a chair from downstairs, Pix.”

And that’s just hot. Obviously I do like bit of old school chivalry from time to time. Fetching and carrying so my beautiful fem doesn’t have to, but also, fuck, making me fetch the chair she’s going to tie me to is making my breath hitch. 

She makes me put it at the end of the bed. After that, inevitably, I have to take off my clothes. Lois is getting really into these scenes where I’m naked and she’s fully dressed, and I know complaining about that will make no difference to anything, but god, it’s _mortifying_.

I take off all my clothes and I stand there in front of her naked trying not to blush or shake or give away how much I hate it, like she doesn’t know. And I’m so hot and slick between my legs because of it. Lois is holding the collar, she buckles it on. I like the way her fingers touch my neck when she does it. 

“What’s wrong?” Lois says sweetly as she adjust the way the collar sits.

Because, oh fuck, she always knows. 

“Are you embarrassed because you’re naked?”

I nod and Lois slides a fingernail down the centre line of my bare chest, letting the nail scrape my skin. I know where she’s going with this. And I know it won’t make any difference, but I squeeze my legs together. 

Lois’s fingers scratches over my belly and slides carefully between my legs. I’m fucking soaking. It’s just awful. Lois pulls her glistening finger away and looks at it. “Ah,” she says, “yes. It seems this is terrible for you.”

I just look at her. I’m shaking. 

She seems pleased by that. “Get on the chair, Pix.”

I sit down. She straps my wrists behind the chair with the leather cuffs she usually uses in her bedroom and ties my ankles. It’s like the way she tied me for the lap dance. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable like this, with my legs spread wide and my cunt just fucking open and aching, and I know there is no chance at all of anyone touching me there, or paying any attention at all to the frustrating, almost painful situation I am in. So I just look at her. 

“Very nice,” says Lois, taking a step back and looking at me. “You always look good when you’re really fucking frustrated.”

I don’t know what to say. I feel like I’m always frustrated these days. 

I’m staring at her when the doorbell rings. It makes me startle. The intrusion of the outside world. The idea of someone other than Lois seeing me this way.

Lois smiles. “Wait here.”

“Don’t leave me alone,” I stammer out. “You can’t leave me alone like this.”

Lois has this way of looking at me like I’m a person not a thing, just when I need her to. She says, “I’m only going down the stairs. I’ll hear you if you shout.”

“What if you have a heart attack?”

“You’re safer from the ‘what if I have a heart attack’ scenario than you’ve ever been when we’re alone in my flat.” She stops then, she looks sweetly at me and damn she is beautiful. “Pix, there’s no such thing as zero risk. I promise this risk is minimal. Here, let me take your mind off it. “

And then that sweet expression slips. She’s been playing with me. She plucks something from the front pocket of her bag on the floor and it glitters in her hand. It’s a pair of nippled clamps she only used on me once before. 

They _fucking_ hurt.

She comes close and kisses me. Her tongue is in my mouth and her hand is between my legs. I’m so desperately horny that it only takes a single stroke of her fingers and I’m moaning. 

“Oh,” she sighs happily, “you are such a fucking slut, like this. I love it.” She puts the first clamp on me.

My moan becomes a scream, as I’m sure she knew it would and I feel stupid and manipulated that I’ve done just what she wanted and I hate it and I want her to do this to me more, to trick me and take advantage of how desperate I am and just reduce me into this stupid mess that will do anything she wants and act exactly as she predicts.

I yell into her mouth again when she snaps on the second clamp and she pulls away smiling. I pull a little at the cuffs, but I know I’m trapped. These things are on my tits for as long as Lois wants and there’s nothing I can say or do about it.

Lois goes to answer the door. I’m not sure what she says to Sadie about how long she had to wait. But I guess she tells her something while I’m busy thinking about how everything _fucking hurts_.

Actually, only the nipple clamps hurt. But it’s enough. I am extremely overwhelmed by how much they hurt. The hurt like a long pulse of pain that also has bits of even worse pain scattered through it like horrible rhythm. 

I would beg Lois to take them off if I thought she’d do anything other than tease me more. And if she was still in the room.

When they get up to the bedroom, which it feels like they take their sweet time about, I’m slightly sweaty, slightly breathless from the pain. I see the way the Lois looks at me, catch the way she likes the state I’m in. And that helps a little. At least it’s pleasing her, at least there is that.

Sadie, who I’ve only really ever seen on stage dressed as a mermaid is very cute. Little and round with a short blonde crop. I guess her on stage mermaid hair was a wig. She’s also basically a complete stranger. I hadn’t really thought about that. The idea of someone else, someone other than Lois, seeing me like this. Not just naked, but naked and tied up and in pain.

And _into_ being naked and tied up and in pain, she can’t miss that, the way Lois has tied my legs open, the way I’m practically dripping onto the chair. That too.

A stranger.

So that’s a lot to deal with, and I don’t even know how I feel about it. I don’t know if things are good or bad anymore, but at least Lois is here. At least Lois is pleased. If Lois came over now and whispered something in my ear, told me how hot I looked like this, told me she enjoyed how I suffered for her, this could all be manageable.

But Lois doesn’t speak to me, she turns to Sadie and says casually, “Ignore her. She’s being punished.”

Sadie looks right at me. With my hands tied behind the chair and my legs open, she can just see everything, _fucking everything_. “What did she do?” Sadie says.

“She’s just a greedy fucking slut that needs to learn a lesson.”

That just fucking makes me lose it. I’m not gagged, but I am pretty sure I’m not allowed to speak. But that, Lois calling me a slut in front of Sadie, makes me moan. I can’t help it. I try and swallow it, too late.

Lois looks delighted. “See what I fucking mean. Stupid little bitch.”

At that it’s all I can do not to moan again. But then, Lois is pulling Sadie onto the bed and kissing her and the whole thing is happening and I am dying a hundred beautiful deaths. 

Lois is all dark hair, dark clothes, really red lipstick and Sadie is in a pale pink jumper and light blue jeans. Her make up is pastel and her lips at a glossy, slippery looking pink. After Lois has pulled Sadie close, pressing their tits together and kissed her on the mouth, Sadie’s mouth is stained with Lois’s red. 

Lois is quite dommy with Sadie. I suppose I should have expected it but it is strange and thrilling to see how it looks. She has Sadie on her back on the bed, wrists pinned and she’s kissing her hard, kissing her down into the mattress. I know just how that _feels_. She gets her legs apart and gets in between. I squirm hopelessly on the chair.

I make another sound. It’s not even a moan this time. Just a hopeless sort of gasp, but Lois hears and she looks up at me. Her eyes are wild with excitement. _God, she fucking loves this, she loves seeing me like this._

“Shut up, bitch,” Lois snarls at me. “You get nothing. You keep interrupting and you don’t even get to watch.”

It’s all I can do not to whimper.

Lois kneels up between Sadie’s legs and pull off her black top to reveal and beautiful black shiny corset with a black lace bra above it. The bra looks like spiders have made webs all over her tits, lucky spiders. She moves back down and kisses Sadie some more, dragging her teeth over her neck. Sadie squirms and moans and I know how good that feels too. 

Lois is such a good kisser, but that thing where she bites and works at my neck, I love it so much. I shiver. The little hairs on my arms stand up. I gaze at Sadie under Lois and I fucking burn with jealousy. _God_ , I wish that was me.

I guess that’s the point.

I’ve almost forgotten how much the clamps hurt.

Lois gets Sadie out of her jumper and jeans and she’s wearing a white lacy bra and matching knickers underneath. I don’t know if they planned what they were both going to wear but the contrast between them is really delicious. Sadie has white ankle socks on with lace trim, which I find absurdly sexy for some reason.

Lois slips out of her own jeans and reveals her suspenders and black lace topped stockings and that’s when I make some kind of stupid desperate whining noise even though I really am trying my best to do what I’ve been told to do.

Lois looks up at me, “Problem, Pix?”

“No, mistress.”

“Really? Because it sounded a bit like you had a problem.”

I look at her. I feel slightly shaky and unreal. I say, “I want to come, mistress.” Like I actually say that in front of a relative stranger.

Lois hardly gives anything away, but I see a soft shadow of lust in her eyes. She touches her neck and strokes her hand from there, across her clavicle. It’s such a sexy gesture, but I manage to swallow hard instead of moaning.

It’s still obvious. I‘m still a horny desperate mess. Which I guess is what Lois wants. 

“Pix.” The way Lois says that, her tongue flicking over her bottom lip. I love the way she says my name. “I’m not going to touch you, but you can come if you want.”

“Wh-what?” I don’t understand her for a minute. It sounds like she’s telling me I can get myself off, but I’m tied to the chair. I pull at the cuffs, like I think, after all the times I’ve worn them, this will be the time that I can wriggle out of them. “Mistress I…” I don’t know what to say.

“You seem desperate enough. You think you can come? Like that. From nothing.” Lois still has that hand on her collarbone. She rubs it there again and reaches down with the other, pushing two fingers into Sadie’s mouth, lying on the bed under her. Sadie sucks them greedily. Fuck I’m so jealous.

And that gets worse when Lois takes her hand from Sadie’s mouth and slips her wet fingers under the waistband of Sadie’s white knickers.

Sadie bucks a little at the touch, her mouth falls open. “You don’t deserve to be touched, Pix,” Lois says. “So maybe you better figure out how you’re going to come without it, if you really want to.”

Lois strokes Sadie again and then gets her knickers off and curls between her legs to eat her out. I’m dying. I’m a dying mess on the chair.

_I have to come just from watching? No touch at all. Nothing?_

I press down against the chair. The pressure on my aching cunt increases. But it’s more a of a tease than enough to get me off. I make a frustrated moaning noise.

Lois lifts her head from Sadie’s lucky fucking cunt. “Do you need a gag, Pix?”

I shake my head, pressing my mouth closed.

Lois raises her eyebrows. “Or a blindfold? I’ll tell you what, one more sound and I’ll make you choose which one I give you.”

I squirm on the chair again, which is all I can do now. I am so fucking turned on and I want to come so much and I’m pretty sure if I don’t, if I don’t manage it like this, Lois isn’t going to take pity on me and get me off herself. And that, idea, that cruel idea, just turns me on even more. 

Lois is back between Sadie’s spread legs. Sadie’s toes in those cute socks are flexing and curling as Lois goes to work, does what I fucking taught her.

I’m actually crying with frustration as I watch them and pull at the cuffs, and flex my ankles in the ropes. Between my legs, as I twist and squirm, I feel an orgasm start to build.

I don’t know if it’s good or bad. Am I just getting hornier and hornier just so I can be even more frustrated and desperate or am I really going to…, am I going to…?

Sadie’s thighs start to shake and then she comes with and shout and a cry and Lois licks her through it, keeps going until Sadie mutters, “Damn, fuck,” and pushes her head away.

Lois straightens up licking her lips. She slides me a glance then looks back at Sadie.

Sadie says, “Fuck, you’re good at that, babe. You kept that quiet. So how about you? I gotta return the favour. You want me to eat you?”

It’s all I can to to keep quiet at the idea of that. Lois glances at me again before she says, “I have a better idea.”

She reaches down beside the bed and grabs something. When Sadie’s sees it her eyes go wide. “Cool,” she says, “you want me to fuck you?”

Lois hands Sadie the harness. “I really fucking do,” she says. “I’ve not been fucked in forever.”

_Fuck._

Sadie takes the harness and shimmies into it, pulling it over her still sticky cunt. Lois helps her tighten the straps, then she pulls off her own tiny black knickers, leaving in place her corset, stocking and suspenders and climbs up, onto Sadie’s dick. 

She’s facing away from me. My view is of her back, her shoulder blades emerging from the back of her corset, her cloud of black hair. She looks over her shoulder at me. “This is feels so good, Pix,” she says huskily as she rides Sadie’s dick. So good.

And it is. 

I feel like I can feel it too.

I feel like as Lois rides the dick I’m there with her. She moans and bucks and I feel so close to her. I squirm against the chair, building the pressure. My body hurts from being tied to the chair. Everything hurts. And I know, Lois doesn’t care if I can come like this or not. Lois controls whether I get to come or not and she doesn’t even care. 

And once again, weird as it is, it’s thinking about all the times she hasn’t let me, all the times she might not let me again, that makes me come, untouched, crying out on the chair.

That night, in bed with Lois, I go out like a light. I’ve never slept so well. Must be the Yorkshire air.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When Carol shakes hands with Lois there’s an odd moment. I‘m not sure what it is. Carol met Rachel a ton of times and it never felt odd, but when Carol looks at Lois she doesn’t seem at all pleased with something about her._

A few, extremely nice, weeks after we get back from Hebden Bridge, I have lunch with JJ. We’re in one of those greasy spoons that hardly seem to exist anymore but JJ seems to always know where to find one.

I’ve got my veggie burger and they’ve got her full English when they says, “So, I have some news, Sal’s pregnant.”

“Wow.” I drop my fork on the table. “Wow, that’s amazing. Congratulations. How long? Like how far? Like, I mean, when?”

“November.” JJ grins.

“Fuck, JJ? You good?”

JJ grins wider. “Really good.” But their face goes a little dark after they say that. “Also though, you ought to know. I heard Rachel was pregnant too.”

“Rachel?”

“Rachel. Your ex Rachel.”

I laugh. “I know who Rachel is. I just.” I look at JJ, a little amazed at what I’m about to say, “I haven’t thought about her for a while.”

“Shit. So it’s really serious you and…”

“Lois,” I say, then realise JJ is mocking me, only pretending to forget Lois’s name. “Oh fuck you. But I guess I’m over Rachel.”

“Well a rebound is the best way to do it.”

“Lois isn’t a rebound.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I like Lois. She’s cool. I just wanted to check you were okay. You were with Rachel for years. And now she’s with someone else and she’s pregnant already and…”

“And I turn forty in two weeks.”

“Yes. That too. What are we doing for that, actually?”

“Well…”

Because Lois isn’t a rebound from Rachel. If anything Rachel was a rebound from Carol. Carol who, is maybe still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Carol who, before I even met Lois, way back in that strange lifetime where I didn’t know Lois even existed, promised to host my fortieth birthday party.

When I tell JJ says they stretch their eyes and say, “Carol. Does Lois know?”

_Uh._

* * *

I suppose this is not the kind of thing I ought to announce with one of my wrists still tied to the bed, but it’s not like having part of me still tied to the bed is even an odd situation anymore.

And the way Lois is acting, I think she’s gonna leave my left wrist where it is for sometime, because we’re done fucking and she’s rummaging on the floor for her laptop so we can watch something in bed and I reckon I’m not getting my wrist back until she wants me to go get her a drink or something.

It’s so hot.

As she opens the laptop on the bed I say, “It’s my birthday, week after next.”

“Cool.” She looks back at me. “I thought it was soon. What do you want to do?”

“Actually my friend Carol is throwing a party for me.”

“Yeah. I’ve never met Carol. She’s the university one, right. The one you had a crush on?”

“Yes,” I say, embarrassed and shy to have Lois just lay it out like that. “She turned 40 earlier this year. We’re in the same year so, I don’t know, I was single when she suggested it so I thought it would be fun.”

“Is that so.” Lois starts the next episode of the space opera we’ve been following playing on her laptop and snuggles up to me, she kisses me on the mouth, its nice, and a little less than I want, which is also nice. 

“Of course, I’d rather spend it with you.”

“Hope so too. But we can go to the party. I’ll allow it.” 

She laughs and with my free hand I give her a soft slap on the arm. “But don’t be mean to Carol, okay. Its not her fault she’s straight and broke my heart twenty years ago.”

“It’s her loss if you ask me.”

* * *

We arrive at Carol’s house and Lois looks so stunning I can’t take my eyes of her. She’s wearing an evening dress that hangs from her shoulders on two tiny straps and drops right to the floor in a beautiful sleek line. The fabric is black and shimmers in the light. I feel a little bit light headed when I look at it. I don’t think she can possibly have a bra on under it, and the thought of that is making me feel a bit unhinged with desire.

I’m in the tuxedo I promised her months ago, and which I think she appreciates because I got extremely well fucked in it before we left the house, even considering the fact it’s my birthday.

Everyone is here. Pregnant Sal and excited JJ, Kat, Caleb and Ray. And Marco. I really ought to find the time to thank Marco for the part he played in getting Lois and I together. Carol looks very chic with her extra short bob and a navy jumpsuit and sure, she’s pretty, but, actually, next to Lois, she’s really nothing.

When Carol shakes hands with Lois there’s an odd moment. I‘m not sure what it is. Carol met Rachel a ton of times and it never felt odd, but when Carol looks at Lois she doesn’t seem at all pleased with something about her. 

That tension aside, the party is fun. We dance and eat and, as always with Carol the food is amazing and music is well chosen. It’s a lot of 90s stuff I remember from university, that I hope doesn’t make me seem a thousand years old to Lois. 

Caleb and Marco are a bit awkward around each other, which I suppose is understandable. And then Marco and Ray _really_ hit off and Caleb doesn’t seem to like that at all and spends about an hour in the garden smoking furiously, while Lois fusses in my ear about whether he’s okay.

Alexis arrives late and seems to take over the entire party with her presence, somehow persuading Carol to let her show a film she’s made, and we all crush onto the sofa to discover it is very arty but also contains a lot of images of erect penises. 

I whisper to Lois. “I can’t believe Alexis has come to a lesbian birthday party and made us all look at unsolicited dick pics”

And Lois says. “Sure. But it’s cheered Caleb right up.” She leans closer. She smells like soft sandlewood. “Marco and Ray have gone upstairs.”

I look around the group piled all over Carol’s sofa and floor. Marco and Ray do seem to both be missing. 

Lois kisses my ear. “I hope they spunk all over Carol’s bed. 

Carol looks over at us. She eyes Lois with that weird, sly look she’s been giving her all evening. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” says Lois. She nudges me. “Get me a drink, Pix.”

I take the empty glass she’s holding and stand up. And I don’t know if Lois asks me to get her a drink just then, in front of Carol as a kind of _fuck you_ to Carol. And, JJ, does flash me a kind of conspiratorial look. But it’s just a drink. It’s not weird to get your girlfriend a drink. It’s not like I say, yes mistress, or anything.

But Carol says, “Pix, seriously?”

I stop. “What?”

“Don’t get her a drink.” She looks at Lois. “You should get _her_ a drink. It’s her birthday.”

Lois wets her top lip with her tongue. “She wants to get me a drink,” Lois says to Carol, like Carol is a dumb child. “She likes to do what I say.”

“Oh my god,” says Carol. “Seriously?”

I stop and looks quickly around. And, when I do, I realise that, more than half the people in the room are aware of the fact that Lois and I have a kinky thing going. But I really don’t want Carol to start shouting about it though, actually.

And I have to stop this because Lois and Carol are looking at each other like they might be about to start a fucking fight to the death over me. And hot as that is in my imagination, in real life, it’s just awkward. “It’s just a drink Carol,” I say. “Chill out.”

I walk over to the kitchen and get Lois a vodka tonic and come back and sit next to her on the sofa and I am fucking praying she doesn’t ask me to do anything else, not now, because I am already burning up inside with mortification.

When the dick pic film is over, Carol calls silence and attention for something and produces a large shoebox. She places it on the tiled coffee table in front of me sitting down on the carpet and grinning. I frown at it. It is a little familiar.

“Do you remember this, Pix?”

I shake my head. Not sure.

“It’s our time capsule,” Carol says. “We made it when you turned twenty. And we said we’d open it when you turned forty.”

I gasp. “Oh my god.” I had completely forgotten. But there it is. That old Adidas shoe box. Suddenly so recognisable.

Carol starts to pulls out old concert tickets and stupid student stuff, badges and posters. People whoop and grab things to take a closer look. All the old pictures we had stuck on the living room wall in our shared student house. There’s even an old itemised phone bill, where we’ve worked out who owes what for landline calls, like an ancient relic. 

“I even kept this,” says Carol. And when I see what she’s holding, my heart stops.

Because it’s the card, _the_ card that I gave Carol on her 20th birthday. “Carol…” I say because, god, if anything, if fucking anything is fucking private.

Lois puts a hand on my shoulder. 

“I couldn’t throw this away could I?” Carol says cheerily.

The card has a pink rose on the front. I remember standing in WHSmiths for ages, trying to choose the perfect card, the card that might mean my feelings were returned. 

I swallow. I know she’s going to open it. I know she is and I can’t stop her.

She opens it. She starts to read it. 

“This is so sweet. Oh, Pix, you were adorable. _Dear Carol. I don’t know how to say this, so I’ve written it down. I love you. I am i love with you. I think about you all the time…_ ”

“ _For fucks sake_ ” That’s Lois. I am too horrified to move. But Lois saves me. She reaches across the coffee table and snatches the card from Carol’s hand. “That’s enough, Carol.”

Lois looks furious and when I look at Carol, she looks the same. She spits at Lois, “Be careful with that. It’s very precious.”

“Is it,” Lois replies. “Really?” And she really sounds like she is on the brink of punching Carol.

“And there’s a photograph inside it. So be careful you don’t tear it.”

Lois looks at Carol again. Then she opens the card. I don’t know why she does. Is she curious to see the photograph. Does she doubt the existence of the photograph. I don’t know why she opens the card, but she does.

Inside the card is a photograph of Carol aged 20. It’s a polaroid. It was my favourite photograph of Carol, back then. And she does look beautiful in it. 

She also looks…

Carol aged 20 had a huge cloud of dark hair, bright red lipstick. She’s even wearing a black vest top with tiny straps that looks a lot like the dress Lois has on.

You can’t see it, really, looking at Carol now. With her hair cut short and the subtler make up, but Carol at 20, Carol when I was crazy about her, and Lois… Lois now.

Lois makes a weird sound and drops the card onto the coffee table. The picture slithers out across the polished blue tiles.

I look at JJ. JJ looks from the picture to Sal and I see her mouth the word, “Fuck.”

Lois stands up. She looks so fucking regal as she does it. Chin in the air. She stands, turns, and without a word, she walks out.

I do nothing. I sit their, frozen dumb. I hear the front door slam. And who knows how long I would have sat there, pretending everyone wasn’t looking at me if Alexis hadn’t said, “Fuck’s sake, darling. You need to go.”

I nod. I stand up and Carol says, “You don’t have to.”

And it was that, if anything that made me go.

I run into the hallway and I bump into Ray and Marco _and_ Caleb coming down the stairs. Caleb says, “Is everything okay?”

And I say, “No, as I run out, into the street.”

* * *

I can see her back, walking away from me. Black raincoat and black hair. I run and I shout her name and she turns and stops and looks at me. She looks shock-pale. Eyes red. “I’ve called an Uber so you’d better be quick.”

I pound to a stop, half out of breath, “It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t care about her anymore. She’s straight anyway.”

“Is she? Am I a rebound?”

“From Carol? Or from Rachel?”

“I don’t fucking know, Pix. Either.”

And maybe this isn’t the time for brutal honesty, but I say, “When we met I wasn’t long out of a serious relationship, and at the start, I thought maybe you were a way to get over Rachel. Like you were my midlife crisis dominatrix.”

“Right, well, I’m glad you told me, and fuck you.”

“Sorry. But wasn’t I just an experiment to you? Alexis told me that first night you just wanted to sleep with a woman because you felt bad you never had.”

“Jesus,” Lois spits at me. “Why does that always have to be a thing. Like. Sadie’s bi how come you never fucked Sadie, like that’s how people work. Like you’re always doubting me, thinking I’m just a tourist.”

“It’s not that, Lois. I just didn’t think someone like you could really be serious about someone like me.”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it. You made me think like I was the one indulging a fantasy when that was what you were doing. The fantasy of being topped by your fucking university crush.” And then Lois is fucking crying. “Did you used to imagine I was her? The fucking love of you life.”

“She’s not the…”

“That’s what you wrote in the card.”

“I was fucking 19 when I wrote that card.”

“I look just like her Pix,” Lois says as a car slides to a stop next to her. 

Her Uber’s here.

She gets into it and she’s gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I don’t know why I think humiliating myself in front of Lois in a way neither of us are going to enjoy is a good idea._

It’s easy to say, just call her, text her. But I don’t know what to say. So I don’t. Because if the fact that Carol, who I has a crush on when I was a tiny little baby dyke, looks like Lois, is a deal breaker for Lois what can I do? 

I can’t change what happened with Carol. I can’t change what Lois looks like. I didn’t notice the way Lois looked like Carol when we met in supermarket or when she found me at the bus stop. But now it’s been pointed out to me, yeah, it’s obvious. 

I have a type. Lots of people have a type.

So I don’t do the sensible things. I don’t call or text. I just cry and do the dumbest kind of magical thinking - I go back to the supermarket where I met her, every Friday night. As if running into her there would fix everything. As if, if we met again there, we could start over. 

_And what good would that do?_ whispers a traitorous voice in my head. Even if you met her all over again, she’d still look like Carol. She’d still find that out in the end and jump into an Uber and leave you there in the street. 

I don’t meet Lois in the supermarket, but three weeks after that Uber drove away from me, I do meet Alexis.

She’s by the tomatoes, picking up individual fruits and scrutinising them before putting them, loose, into a basket that also contains a packet of linguini and a transparent plastic sleeve of basil. She hasn’t spotted me and, for a moment, I’m not sure if I want to speak to her or not. If I’d see her in the street, I might have glided right past but she’s here, in the place where I met Lois. 

It’s a sign.

I’m quite a practical person usually. I don’t go much in for signs, but I’m desperate. So I wait for her to look up, catch her eye and say, “Hey, Alexis.”

She stares at me for a minute like maybe she doesn’t recognise me, but then she says, “It’s you.”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

Alexis dumps her shopping basket and small selection of groceries on the floor. She marches over to me, puts a long arm around my shoulder and escorts me out of the food part of the supermarket and into the cafe part, where she sits me at a table and says, “Coffee?”

It’s early evening and coffee seems like a bit much for the time of day, but I have no idea what is going on so I nod and say, “Black.”

She turns around, stalks up to the counter and is back extremely quickly with two steaming cups the size of soup bowls and two muffins. 

“Right,” she says. “You have to come back, darling. She’s a state.”

“I don’t think she wants me back. I’ve hurt her.”

Alexis takes a bite of her muffin and talks with her mouthful. “How. Details.”

So I explain about Carol and the fact Lois looks like Carol did when we first met. And about how she saw the photos and when I’m done, Alexis says, “Was it on purpose?”

“What?”

“Did you pick out Lois on purpose, because she looks like your great love.”

I shake my head. “No. That’s the weird thing. I never even noticed how much she looks like Carol until I saw the old photographs.”

Alexis smiles. A slow smiles that creeps across her face. “You know, I rather think that is the whole point darling. Listen. I am doing a preview of my new show next week. It’s called _Alexis Adored_.” She makes a kind of marquee with her hands as she says the title. “It’s about love. Your friend Kat is doing a support act, but I think, after hearing that story, we should have an extra performance from you.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not performer.”

“No. You’re going to be taking a big risk. But that’s love for you.”

* * *

Alexis’s show is in the theatre about the Queen’s Head. I arrive early and then have to sit backstage watching Kat engineer themselves from teenage boy in femme fatale. I’m far too nervous to enjoy it. Meanwhile Alexis is lacing up the tallest pair of DMs I have ever seen in my life. They come up nearly to her crotch. i think they must be custom made. She’s wearing them over a latex catsuit, which, obviously makes me think of Lois, and a rubber gimp mask, which doesn’t.

I wait backstage, while Kat performs. Alexis, who is hosting the show, puts a soft hand on my shoulder when she tells me Lois is in the audience. I shudder. Because the plan… it’s a terrible plan.

I don’t know why I think humiliating myself in front of Lois in a way neither of us are going to enjoy is a good idea.

We I get on stage, I begin this way, “When I was 19 I fell in love with Carol. And Carol did not fall in love with me.”

I don’t think what I’ve written is artful or meaningful. I’m not a poet. But it’s really and I hope that counts for something.

“When Carol didn’t love me back I thought perhaps no one did. So far 100% of the people I had fallen in love with had not fallen in love with me and it didn’t seem to matter to my brain, when doing this analysis, that Carol was straight and that might have been the cause of the problem.”

People laugh at this, which I like, I smile at the kindle I’ reading this from, and say, “Don’t laugh, this is a tragedy.” This makes people laugh more and someone says, “Aww.”

I sneak a glance at Lois. She’s not laughing, but she’s still there. 

I take a breath and say, “But also, Carol was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.” I’ve still got Lois in the corner of my eye, and when I say this, I see her mouth set firm. “She was so beautiful I used to, in my heartbroken state, judge every woman I met by how much they looked like her.” I take a breath. I daren’t look at Lois again. “I even got together with a woman who looked nothing like her. Because it felt like a safe place. But it wasn’t. That relationship was all about Carol. About Rachel not being Carol.”

Another breath. I have no idea if this will work. I just hope it will. It’s the only thing I’ve got really. “You know the game? It’s like an old internet meme, I guess. Except I think it’s from before memes were a thing. But the point of the game was, or is, I’m not sure if it’s still a thing, to go as long as you can without thinking about the game. And when you think about the game, you lose the game. Er, sorry if I’ve just made you lose the game, by the way.” A couple of people in the audience groan, or maybe mock groan at this, which makes me smile. “And you know, that thing, about how the opposite of love in indifference, you know, that point where you are so over someone, you just don’t care. Well, that’s the thing, when I got over Carol, I didn’t even know. I didn’t know because when I got over Carol, I stopped thinking about Carol. I broke up with the person who didn’t look anything like Carol and I started dating someone who looked just like Carol, but I didn’t even notice that they did, look just like her, I mean. And when I realised. When I had it pointed out to me that I’d done this, that’s when I knew I was over Carol.”

I stop talking. I give a little bow because my story doesn’t really end with a punchline or anything. But the bow makes people realise I’m done and they applaud politely, and when I straighten up from the bow, I look over at Lois and she looks back at me with red eyes. And walks out.

I leave the stage and listen to Alexis announce an interval. I clatter down the stairs to the bar and run right into Caleb. He almost catches me in his arms and I look up breathless. As I straighten up I notice he is flanked by both Marco and Ray, which is interesting, but I can’t really get into it now and I’m about to say, “Where is she?” when the three of them sort of part, stand aside like they’re a gay throuple magic curtain and there she is, standing behind them, eyes still red and glassy. Lois looks at me as says, “I am gonna kill Alexis for this.”

And, I mean, that’s not good. “She was just trying to help.” My voice sounds really small.

Lois sort of cracks when I say that. Like all this tension is too much, she cracks and as she does she moves towards me, saying something like, “Shit. Pix.”

And then we’re kissing.

Lois is, she’s a good kisser. She’s always been a good kisser and she has this way of kissing me that makes me feel like I’m drowning and pleased about it. But even with her considerable skill, and the fact we’ve not kissed for just over four weeks, there is no really excuse for the embarrassing moaning panting mess I quickly become. 

Except there is an excuse and Lois works it out pretty quick. “Pix?” she says, half in, half out of my mouth. “You haven’t?”

“I didn’t…” I don’t know what to say. Fuck is this stupid. Am I stupid? Will she think I fucking stupid. Or presumptuous. “I didn’t want to break the rules.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Four. More than four.”

“I can’t. I can’t believe you did that.”

“I like doing what you say.” Lois kisses me on the forehead and for that kiss, I could have done a lot longer.

When the show restarts, we don’t go upstairs. We sit in the quiet bar and Lois says “What shall we do now?”

“You know, I’ve never been to where you work?”

“Where I work?”

“The dungeon. The one that’s not part of a castle.”

Lois smiles. “Oh,” she says, into my hair, then, “ _Oh_.”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this. And thank you so much if you've left kudos or commented of subscribed or bookmarked.
> 
> I started posting this fic to AO3 so I would get it finished. And that worked because here it is finished. There are a million things I want to change or expand or improve about this. But having this very clean early draft is great.
> 
> I really want to do something with this eventually.
> 
> But for now, thanks again for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> https://mathildia.tumblr.com/


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